


Queering Storybrooke

by littlegreenfish



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Agender Character, Aromantic, Asexuality, Bisexuality, F/F, F/M, Gen, Gender, Genderfluid Character, Homophobia, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Mild Dysphoria, Multi, Other, Polyamory, Rampant Queerness, Sexuality, Trans, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Trans Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-04
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-02-19 21:09:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 33,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2402975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlegreenfish/pseuds/littlegreenfish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the dust has settled in Storybrooke and it becomes truly peaceful for the first time, Emma starts to realize that there is a disturbing lack of LGBTQA education in town. On the surface, it seems like everyone is straight as an arrow. Emma, an open bisexual herself, begins to wonder just what's lurking under the surface after Killian inadvertently comes out to her when she tries to break up him. That, in tandem with the realization that she's been in love with Regina for some time, prompts her to start, for better or for worse, exploring sexuality in Storybrooke. TLDR: Everyone is queer. Except maybe Mary Margaret. (Not a crackfic. Tags will be added/changed as story progresses.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1: Is Everyone Here Queer?

**Author's Note:**

> Uhh...so basically the super cishet direction of OUAT is making me really mad, so I decided to write a fic where almost everyone in Storybrooke is queer. THIS ISN'T A CRACKFIC! I wanted to write a serious piece with as much queer representation as possible. If anything seems problematic please let me know!! I'm queer myself and am having a queer friend beta my fic but that doesn't mean we'll catch everything!! Also, the other chapters probably won't be this long! I'll try to include trigger warnings where they apply. Longterm trigger warnings for this fic: homophobia and minor dysphoria. There is mention and slight narration of a post-transition transman who chose to go through with a surprise pregnancy.

Part 1

 

**Emma**

 

Things are _okay_ , Emma thinks to herself as she stirs her hot chocolate and looks out the window, watching the snow fall. It’s an unusually cold winter. People joke that it’s because of Elsa. Emma just groans and rolls her eyes, because as far as she’s concerned, enough time hasn’t passed to joke about it.

It was a big frozen mess, and she’s glad that it’s over. Well—pretty glad. There’s one problem that’s persisted through the whole thing. She’s still dating Killian Jones, and it’s…. _okay_.

For awhile now Emma has been trying to live up to the fairytale expectations her parents seem to have for her. Killian had seemed like he’d be the next step. It _sort of_ sounded like a fairytale.

She’s waiting for him in Granny’s now, chewing on her lower lip and looking around. Storybrooke citizens are coming and going as they please. None of them take real notice of the Savior—they all see each other so often in the small town that unless something very good or very bad is going on, greetings aren’t _always_ necessary.

Ruby is busy in the kitchen. Granny is bringing Eric and Ariel coffee. Jefferson is at the bar looking stressed as usual. It’s nice that he’s out of the house. He’s with Archie, which is probably a good thing.

A bell rings. The door opens. Killian saunters into the bar.

Ariel and Eric don’t give him any notice. Ruby glances a him from the kitchen but otherwise doesn’t acknowledge him. Jefferson tenses, grits his teeth, and hunches over his drink. Emma forces a smile.

“Hello, love!” Killian says brightly, sliding into the booth across from Emma and affectionately kicking at her feet. “Did you miss me?”

“Mm.” Is all that Emma can muster, because there are knots in her belly that have nothing to do with Killian’s ruggedness. He leans in for a kiss, and she angles her face away so that his lips meet her cheek.

A few days ago she realized that she never loved him—she just wanted to be happy. Losing Neal had been hard, and Killian was just—well—there. But…how to tell him that? Charming _adored_ the pirate—it was a little weird. Snow thought that it was “destiny”.

Henry thought Killian was the coolest thing since sliced bread.

And Regina? Well…Regina was the problem.

Emma will never be in love with Captain Hook, even though it would be convenient. He’s a little creepy, but at least he’s a somewhat standard candidate for “true love”.

Then, Last week in the shower, Emma discovered a horrible truth about herself.

Realizing that she was a little in love with Regina Mills (And how could she not be? After all they’d been through?) had made her nauseous. It had gotten worse and worse until she couldn’t even kiss Killian anymore, let alone allow him to touch her. The last time he’d tried, his hand in her pajamas and his lips under her chin, she’d rolled away from him in bed and announced that she was menstruating.

That had made him stop, but it had still been uncomfortable to lay with him for the rest of the night, especially when he’d started snoring. She hadn’t dared to go to sleep herself—lately all she could think about was Regina’s tan skin and her full lips, and she didn’t want Killian to interpret her sex dreams. Not again.

Breaking up was so exhausting. It had been easier when she was in Boston and could just take off when things got rough or boring. Emma even felt a little bad. Hook _was_ a little sceevy, but he was alright. He has room for improvement, but it isn’t Emma’s job to fix him.

Besides, she’s hopelessly attracted to Regina. The mayor isn’t the first woman she’s wanted. If it had been someone else, it wouldn’t be such a big deal. She’s never mentioned being bi to her parents, but can’t imagine any malice from Snow White about anything so mundane.

Emma doubts she’d understand if it was Regina, though.

“You wanted to talk?” Killian asks, and Emma snaps back to reality.

“Uh—yeah. Why don’t you grab a drink? You must be cold.”

“Sure thing.” Hook raises an eyebrow and gets back up, sliding into the bar. He smiles at the doctor and the hatter next to him. Jefferson scowls. Emma doesn’t remember Hook mentioning the hatter, but everyone in Storybrooke is either related, arch enemies, or best friends. It makes sense that they’ve met.

Killian looks disappointed as Jefferson slaps down a tip on the bar, pops his collar, and abruptly huffs out of the restaurant. Archie looks disapprovingly at Killian, and follows Jefferson (they’ve probably just finished a session, she supposes) out. The look of disappointment on Killian’s face is unexpected and strange, and so is the way that his eyes follow the other man as he leaves the bar.

Emma wonders what’s happened between the two men, and then Killian’s  gaze moves to Robin, who has just walked in, apparently to pick up his lunch. That would be just fine—but Killian isn’t looking at Robin’s face. He’s looking at his ass.

What the hell?

Killian looks at Emma. Emma looks at Killian. Killian realizes that Emma saw his not-so-secret look. His face reddens. He sputters. Ruby sets down his drink. Emma stands and grabs her almost-ex-boyfriend’s (she’s still breaking up with him) elbow.

“Come on. Let’s talk outside.”

He clears his throat and mutters something, and a few short seconds later they’re walking down the street through the snow, blissfully ignored by the citizens walking by.

“So why were you looking at Robin’s ass like that?” Emma eventually blurts out. It’s not the most polite thing she’s ever said, but they’re still sort-of-dating, and he’s always been assertively protective of his heterosexuality.

“I wasn’t!” Killian says, the color in his face not due only to the cold. “I was looking at the floor.”

“Right.”

“And I should be the one asking the questions. Why were _you_ looking down Regina’s shirt at dinner last night?” He asks.

“Hey!”

After that, they’re just fighting in the street. They’re near the harbor and it’s deserted, which is great because what they’re implying about one another aren’t things Emma wants anyone to hear. Not yet.

“So what? You want the mayor, now? Too good for the pirate but good enough for the _evil_ queen?” Hook eventually retorts.

“She’s not evil anymore!” Emma’s almost screaming.

“But you want her?” Hook snaps, fist clenched.

“So maybe I do.” Emma growls. “But whatever—you don’t want me. You want _him_ —or someone like him, right?”

“Who?”

“Robin.”

“No!” Killian looks appalled. “That thing? He’s so…well, filthy. And he’s a _common_ criminal. That…fuzz? No, no—“

“You realize you’re describing yourself?” Emma says drying, crossing her arms. She’s glad that she wore her warmest jacket. It’s cold. “And if you’re not into the rough and tumble type, then you’re clearly not into _me_.”

“Maybe I’m not.” Killian’s ego seems to deflate right in front of her, and it’s really weird. It’s snowing harder now. It makes her want to scream louder, but she doesn’t. “But you’ve already admitted who you want to be with, and that you’re using me to hide it!”

“I am not!” Emma stomps down her foot. “I just figured it out! That’s why I wanted to tell you about it—to be fair to you! I don’t love you!”

“You…just figured it out?” Killian asks. “Emma, love—you’ve only just started _noticing_ her, but you’ve been in love with her for months. It’s obvious.”

“You knew?” Emma is furious.

“I thought you knew I knew—I—I thought that you knew—“ Hook is getting angry again, and confused. “I thought we both—“

“You thought I was your _beard_?” Emma blurts out.

“I shave when I want to, thank you.” Killian says coolly with a scratch to his stubbly chin, and she groans in frustration.

“You knew I was into Regina before _I_ knew, and you still tried to be with me?”

“I thought you understood.” Killian is speaking through grit teeth. “I thought you understood that maybe we could fix each other.”

“What?” Emma stops, and realizes that maybe the Kinsey Scale is something that the people of Storybrooke don’t have. Come to think of it, she’s never seen a rainbow flag or even a “honk for equality” bumper sticker in the small town that’s now her home. She’s never asked what the situation in the Enchanted Forest was with sexuality. “Killian…you know that there’s nothing wrong with it, right?”

“There is _everything_ wrong with it!” Killian suddenly looks like a twelve year old boy trying to prove his heterosexuality. Emma remembers, vividly and suddenly, that he is from the 18 th century English navy, and although she knows homosexuality was more common than textbooks say, he could very well have been raised to fear and hate it.

“Killian—no.” She’s filled with sympathy for the pirate, and it’s a little weird. “I’m not…it’s not liking women that I have a problem with, it’s liking _Regina_.”

“That doesn’t mean we have to break up.” Killian says quickly. “I won’t tell anyone. We never have to talk about it—we can have a great life together. _Milah_ understood that!”

“I thought you loved her. She left Gold for you. Your tattoo?...” Emma’s brow furrowed.

“She did love me.” Killian confirms. “And I loved her—so much—but not...”

“But you had sex with her?”

“Of course. She knew that she could fix me.” Killian is speaking like Emma doesn’t understand what he means. To her, it’s just incredibly sad. With all of the adventures they’ve had, she’s forgotten about simple things like homophobia.

“You don’t…Killian no one needs to fix you.” Emma never expected to be in this situation. Fighting a dragon _might_ be easier than helping Captain Hook accept his sexuality. “So if you don’t mind me asking,”

He grunts.

“If it’s not Robin, then who?...I mean…is there a?...”

“An old friend.” Killian mutters, shrugging a little and looking like a schoolboy with a crush. He’s _almost_ smiling, but at the same time looks incredibly uncomfortable. “…Jefferson.” The name leaves his lips on a tiny, tiny breath and Emma almost doesn’t hear it.

“Does he know?”

Killian shrugs.

“Is that why he left earlier?”

Another shrug.

“So I’m digging Regina, and you’re into the mad hatter?” Emma asks.

“I suppose so.” Killian lets out an aggravated sigh and looks very much like he wants to leave. “Like I said—there’s no reason for us to stop being together. This is much easier.”

“No, I don’t—well…yeah, it’d be easier, but it’s not better.” Emma gives his arm a gentle punch. “Wouldn’t it be _better_ to be in love?”

Vulnerability that Emma has never seen in him flashes across Killian’s face.

“No, Swan. I don’t think it would.” The pirate shoves his hand and hook into the pockets of his thick coat. “…it’s fine.” He murmurs. “I accept your termination of our relationship. Just don’t bring this up again.”

“ _Killian_ —“ Emma starts to say.

“Just go. My ship needs me.” Killian turns abruptly, heading into the building snowstorm to tend to the Jolly Roger. It is at that moment that Emma decides she will never want Killian Jones as a lover, but she is perfectly willing to help out a friend.

The next day snow has stopped falling, and Emma spends the day scouring the town for _anything_ even a little queer, but comes up empty. There’s no gay bar. No PFLAG chapter at the local high school. No information pamphlets at the hospital.

It’s like homosexuality (and all of its pals) don’t exist in Storybrooke. Not in the open, anyway. She spotted a pair of nun-fairies (Nairies? Funs?) holding hands and whispering in a quiet corner, and Ruby winked at a pretty girl at Granny’s, but other than that there hasn’t been anything.

Emma doesn’t want to out anyone—she just wants them to feel safe. Maybe she’s in too deep to the whole “savior” thing.

She supposes the rampant heterosexuality makes it more of a mainstream, Disney-y, fairytale, but that doesn’t make it okay. Just because there isn’t education here doesn’t mean that people aren’t hurting.

Just look at Captain Killian Jones.

She hasn’t seen him today. He’s probably sulking on his ship. Emma has been thinking about him a lot—more than when they were “dating”—and has realized that she should have figured him out a long time ago.

Killian is so aggressively heterosexual that he had to be hiding _something_. She’d attributed it to everyday man-pain, and it had never crossed her mind that he might not be straight.

The only person from Fairytaleland that she knows for certain to be queer is Mulan, who had given her the longest and saddest look in all of history when she’d asked about Aurora. Emma, like most people, could sympathize the pain of unrequited love.

She knew what it was like want a straight girl. It had gotten her kicked out of her fourth foster home. That was one of the reasons she’d kept her sexuality buried until well after meeting Neal and having Henry.

She’d been hurt too many times—but Boston had shown her that the woman who wanted to be with her were generally more understanding about a lot of things than men like Neal.

The sad truth was that most of the queer women she met could identify with her struggles finding a home and a family.

Now she had a family _and_ a home—and she wasn’t about to let Storybrooke go on existing without making sure that everyone in it could be comfortable with who they were. It was a big project to take on, but after Elsa and her family had left town things had quieted down.

But where to start?

The thought of coming out to Ms. Blanchard makes her blanch. The idea of asking Charming about his sexuality is anything but. She isn’t quite ready to talk to Regina yet. Hook probably needs more time to get over their conversation.

Eventually, she decides to talk about it with Ruby. Out of all of Storybrooke’s citizens, she thought that the waitress would be the most open to the idea about opening the town’s mind towards gender and sexuality. Ruby already got raised eyebrows for her fashion—maybe she’d understand.

“Thanks for meeting me here.” She says pleasantly later that evening when they’re having a drink in the apartment she’s rented for herself and her son. Henry’s at Regina’s tonight, which is just fine.

“No problem. What’s up?” Ruby asks, smiling brightly and taking a drink from her beer.

“So…now that things are sort of normal here,” Ruby lets out a snort, and Emma cocks an eyebrow. “Well they are! But anyway—now that things are sort of normal here, I’ve noticed that Storybrooke isn’t exactly caught up with everything in the rest of the world, uh…” It’s a really hard thing to bring up. Emma is tripping over her words.

“Like what?” Ruby asks, happy to listen. “Is this about getting more iPhones? Because we can’t get anything shipped in right now—town line and all.”

“No—it’s not about iPhones.” Emma takes a deep breath. “It’s about—about—well it’s just—“ Ruby is staring. Emma groans. “Are there _any_ gay people here?”

Ruby’s face screws up. Emma tenses.

“I don’t…I don’t think so.” Is Ruby’s eventual response. Her words are slow and careful.

“What about in the Enchanted Forest?” Emma needs answers.

“Well, it’s not—I…” Ruby takes another drink. “It’s not like I don’t know what it’s like in the rest of the world—we do have the internet.” She shrugs a little. “ _I_ don’t have a problem with it, but—“

“So it’s not okay to be gay in Fairytaleland?” Emma asks sarcastically, trying not to think about her parents.

“Well…” Ruby is obviously trying very hard to be open-minded and respectful. Emma appreciated that, but it’s still a very uncomfortable conversation. “Back home, you wait for your true love.”

“What if your true love is another woman?” Emma asks.

“It can’t be.” Ruby says immediately. “If you think that, then you just keep waiting.”

Emma feels her heart break a little.

“It’s not like it didn’t _happen_ back home,” Ruby continues. Suddenly she’s gushing out words, and Emma wonders how long she’s been waiting to have this conversation. “But it was a one way ticket out of the palace if you were royalty—and out of your village if…” She gives a little sigh.

“I used to have a friend back home. Her name was Rose. We were so close that people called us Rose-Red. Like we were one person. Then…she said that she loved me.”

Ruby bites her lip, and then continues.

“I didn’t lover her, but I never told. Then…then she fell in love again, with another woman, and the village found out. They drove her away, and she never came back. I don’t know what happened to her.”

Emma opens her mouth to say words of comfort, but freezes at the next part of Ruby’s story.

“And then, of course, _everyone_ knows about Regina.”

Emma drops her beer. It doesn’t break, but there’s a loud noise when it hits the floor. It was almost empty, so she just leaves it there.

“What?” She’s vaguely aware that her mouth is hanging open.

“You didn’t know?” Ruby asks, her brow furrowed. “That’s one of the reasons no one trusted her. Snow’s father caught her once—with another woman. It was supposed to be a secret, but I’m sure you’ve noticed by now that nothing stays secret for very long in that family.”

“I had…no idea.” Emma admits, and suddenly there’s a new, very complex piece to Regina’s loneliness and the disdain on the faces of those who still fear her. Maybe that’s one of the reasons for the pity that crosses Snow’s face every now and then when she sees the mayor.

“To be fair, no one’s ever seen any proof. I mean…it could have just been a rumor—you know, to make people hate her more.” A dry smile crosses Ruby’s face. “You know—the fear of women’s sexuality and all that.”

Emma realizes why Ruby is sympathetic. After all, she does have a notoriously promiscuous reputation.

“I guess you would know all about that.” Emma offers, because they’re friends and she doesn’t think she’s overstepping her boundaries.

“Well…” Ruby hesitates. “Yes and no.”

“What does that mean?” Emma asks.

“I know what people think—because of the way that I dress, and the way that I talk to boys, but…”

“But what?” Emma asks, wondering if Ruby has been a lesbian all this time.

“It doesn’t really do anything for me. Sex, I mean.” Ruby’s face scrunches a little, and it’s so damn cute that Emma almost cracks a smile. She doesn’t, because it’s clear that Ruby has never told anyone about this before. “I didn’t even…not even with Peter.” Her voice drops at the name of her ex-boyfriend, and Emma gives Ruby’s knee a friendly squeeze to show that she’s listening. “Maybe I’m still waiting for my true love.”

“Well…I think that you’re perfect the way you are.” Emma doesn’t 100% understand asexuality, but makes a mental note to talk to Ruby about it in the future, just in case.

“Thanks, Emma.” Ruby smiles back at her, and then frowns a little. “…why are you asking? Are you?...” Her eyes widen.

Emma’s heart is racing and she feels sick, but she loves and trusts the other woman very much.

“Yeah.”

“You’re gay?”

“No! I—I’m neither. I just like hot people.”

“You can do that?” Ruby asks. She’s not being judgmental. She just doesn’t know.

“Yeah.” Emma confirms, and Ruby nods a little.

“Well, that makes sense. I mean…I don’t see why that’s not possible. It just never really came up in the Enchanted Forest.” Ruby leans in for a hug, and Emma accepts. They stay like that for a little while, and Emma is grateful that people like Ruby are in her life.

“Maybe you should talk to Regina.” Ruby murmurs eventually, as she notices that Emma has started to cry. Just a little bit. “Just in case.”

“I know.” Emma whispers back, wiping her eyes and standing. “I’ll go tomorrow.”

When the sun rises in the morning, Emma finds that she’s barely gotten any sleep. Ruby had left the apartment fairly early, but Emma had spent the night staring up at her ceiling and wondering what would happen if her parents decided not to accept her sexuality.

Ruby had been right, though. Regina was the person she needed to talk to next. If homophobia was at all a contributing factor to the way that many of the town’s citizens still treated their mayor, then Emma needed to let her know that she had someone to confide in.

Even if the rumors weren’t true, they could still hurt.

Emma can hear her heartbeat in her ears as she drives down Mifflin. After turning off the ignition, she stares the golden 108 on her door. Regina knows that she’s coming, but not the reason for the visit. Lately they’ve been spending time with one another as friends, so it’s not _that_ strange…but still.

When she finally works up enough courage to go inside, Regina is waiting for her with an arched eyebrow and crossed arms.

“You’re late.” She says coolly, and Emma’s stomach does a summersault.

“Sorry.” Emma apologizes, hands stuffed in her pockets as they head to the living room.

“So? What did you want to talk about?” Although Regina is much more relaxed than the first time that she invited Emma into her home, she’s still tense. The sheriff can’t blame her. It seems like half of the time, someone is blaming the mayor for something she hasn’t done.

“Well…”

“Did something happen? Another portal? Don’t tell me—it’s Scooby Doo.”

Emma snorts and shakes her head, but doesn’t say anything.

“Out with it, Swan.” Regina’s breath catches and her eyes widen slightly. “Is it Henry? I just saw him—“

“No!” Emma said immediately. “It’s—I heard something from Ruby about you—about…”

In an instant, all of Regina’s walls are up.

“What did she tell you?” Her voice is low and dangerous, and the back of Emma’s neck is prickling.

“Regina, it’s ok.” Emma leans forward, and Regina leans away. “She told me that you’re bisexual—and that no one even knows if it’s true, but—“

“Get out.” Regina stands, and takes a step backwards. “Now.”

“Regina, it’s ok, you can talk to m—“

“Now.”

Emma can feel the magic building in the air, and so she slowly stands and walks towards the room’s exit.

“I won’t mention it again.” She mumbles as she passes the queen and exits. “Sorry.”

Well, she reflects as she drives away, it could have gone worse. She’s crying again. That’s twice in 24 hours. On the way back to her apartment, Emma takes a random turn and eventually pulls over so that she can finish crying before anyone sees her.

Once she’s calmed down, she takes in her surroundings she realizes that Jefferson’s driveway is just down the road. She remembers Killian, and thinks that maybe paying the hatter a visit could be enlightening. In any case, she wants to check up on him and make sure that he’s doing okay. 

Grace is living with him full-time now, and seeing as he kidnapped Snow White and drugged the Savior herself, he warrants close monitoring. Checking in is a good excuse to see him, and so as soon as her eyes aren’t red and puffy she’s pulling into the hatter’s driveway and knocking on his door.

“Swan?” His brow furrows when the door opens, and she finds herself relieved. Jefferson doesn’t look nearly as exhausted or as crazed as before the curse was broken. It makes sense. She can’t imagine the pain he must have been in. She’s filled with pity.

“I came here to talk.” She explains, rocking back on her heels. “You’re not in trouble.”

He hesitates, and then nods.

“Come in. It must be cold.”

A few minutes later they’re sitting at his kitchen table (the house is more cluttered now—it’s clear that there’s a child here now) with steaming mugs of tea.

“It’s not gonna knock me out this time, right?” She jokes.

“No.” He says evenly, and she believes him. Superpower. That, and she knows that he wouldn’t do anything that would get Grace taken away. “So what did you want to talk about?”

“A few things.” Emma admits, deciding to be honest as she sips her tea. “Mostly I just wanted to see how you were doing since…well, everything.”

“I’m fine.” Jefferson says, keeping his responses short. He hesitates and then continues. “I’m medicated. Grace is happy. I’m taking care of her.”

“I know. You’re a good father.” Emma tries to be comforting. He’s been through a lot, after all. “I wanted to let you know that I understand how hard it was while you were under the curse. That doesn’t excuse…everything, but—“

Jefferson’s eyes widen, and Emma’s hand goes for her pocket, where her keys are.

“He never told you, did he?” Jefferson asks, sounding as if he’s barely there.

“Who? Told me what?”

“August.” Jefferson finally looks Emma in the eye. His jaw is clenched between his words. “He came here. He told me what to do. I could barely leave the house before you came to town. I…” Jefferson looks like he’s going to break. “I was _sick_.”

Jefferson has tears in his eyes as he buries his head in his hands.

“I blamed myself until Dr. Hopper helped me underst—“

Emma doesn’t know what to do. Jefferson is still crying.

“What do you mean?” She asks gently, putting her hands on the table so that Jefferson can take them if he wants to. He does, and that makes her even more worried for the man.

“He came here and told me he knew me. He told me he could help me. He told me I could make you believe, and I believed him. I was so _stupid_.”

“You missed your daughter.” Emma offers. “…and it’s over now. We all made mistakes. I did, too. And you helped me believe…even if you didn’t do it in the way you should’ve.”

“I never wanted to hurt anyone. Not after I had Grace.” He pauses, and malice crosses his face. “…and it’s all her fault. The Evil Queen’s.”

“She’s not the Evil Queen anymore.” Emma squeezes his hands. “She’s _changed_. That wasn’t the woman she was supposed to be. Rumplestiltskin made her—“

“You think I don’t know that? I was there, Emma! It’s my fault. I could have helped her. It’s my fault!” It sounds like he’s been wanting to say this for years. Maybe he has.

“You were there?” Emma echoes. “You knew her…before?”

Words start pouring from Jefferson’s mouth. He tells her how he used to work for the Dark One, and how he helped ruin Regina’s attempt to bring back Daniel. After that, things got more complicated when he eventually fell in love with the young queen.

“What happened?” Emma asks. It sounds like things were going well—like the hatter and the queen were going to run away together. “Was it Grace’s mother? Did you fall in love with her and leave Regina?”

“Worse.” Jefferson admits. “We both fell in love with her.” A small smile graces his lips. “I…I was in love a lot, back then. Gender never mattered—don’t look at me like that. I’ve been travelling between worlds since I was old enough to use make use my hat. It’s a family business—my mother taught me better than to bow to the Enchanted Forest’s limited views on identity.”

Emma has a hard time containing her shock. Jefferson’s vocabulary seems remarkably refined, but it makes sense considering the travelling he’s done and the years that he’s had to study this world.

“So you…fought over her? Alice, I mean. You and Regina both wanted to be with her, right? But only one of you could have her, so you broke up?”

“No. We were all together for a time. Everything was fine, until Regina and Alice were caught together. I had no choice but to leave and take Alice away. They would have killed her, and I couldn't leave her alone someplace, because…because…”

“Because she was pregnant?”

“Yes.” Jefferson admits. “But I should have taken Regina with us. I shouldn’t have let her stay behind.”

“So you did ask her to come with you?”

“Of course! I loved her. We both did—very much. But we were afraid of the woman she was becoming…” His fingernails are cutting into her hands, but she doesn’t pull away. These are things that she wants to know about Regina, and things that Jefferson needs to say. “…and we were incredibly young and stupid. I could have saved her.”

“Regina didn’t need saving. She made her own decisions…but that doesn’t mean that you can’t make a better future with her.” Emma hesitates, because the question that she wants to ask is a loaded one. “Do you still love her?”

“No.” Jefferson said honestly, and Emma feels relief wash over her. “Regina is no longer the Evil Queen, but she’s not the woman I fell in love with, either.”

“Have you ever talked to her about it?”

“No. I’m afraid to.”

“Afraid of what?”

“Afraid that I’m still the man who left her.”

“Oh, Jefferson.”

They sit there in silence for a little while. It feels a lot like the night before, when Ruby had admitted her disinterest in sex. Storybrooke is clearly much more queer than it appears, and Emma feels new determination to turn it into a safe space for  _everyone_.


	2. Tales From The Proverbial Closet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Emma's confrontation with some of Storybrooke's queer population, those that she talked to are forced to think about their identities and their pasts, for better or for worse. Trigger warnings: homophobia and minor dysphoria.

Part 2: Tales From The Proverbial Closet

**Killian**

 

The pirate isn’t quite sure what to do with himself. He hasn’t left his ship in a week or so. It’s a little cold, but he’s dealt with worse, and he can’t quite bare showing his face right now. He doubts that Emma has told anyone about their confrontation, but it’s not something that he can risk.

It doesn’t really matter, anyway. He hasn’t really been sober since he barricaded himself in the Jolly Roger. As long as he’s got plenty of rum on board, there’s not really a reason to jump ship. 

His food supply is running a little low, but that’s fine. He hasn’t had much of an appetite anyway. Even if he runs out, there are still plenty of fish in the sea. Sobriety would have made that into an easy metaphor about Emma Swan, but at the moment he’s really quite too drunk to play with words and too depressed to do anything but lay in his bunk and think too much. Since his last piss about an hour ago, he’s come to an unsurprising conclusion. 

He just might hate himself. 

It’s something that he’s known for years now (maybe always) but as he stares up at the ceiling of his cabin, it’s not just a fleeting thought that comes and goes. It’s the truth. 

He hates himself, because he doesn’t love Emma Swan. She’s everything that he’s supposed to love—a woman, a princess. She has everything that he’s supposed to desire—tits, a cunt. 

But that’s never been what he wants. Swallowing hard, he recalls his father saying in passing at the dinner table that a homosexual was driven out of town at gunpoint, and good riddance. Liam had hummed in agreement, and that was where Killian had learned right from wrong. 

Another memory, even less welcome, comes to the surface.

It had been during a brief departure from Neverland, when he’d been trying to find out more about his crocodile. He’d followed little whispers about his history until he found himself in front of a hovel in the woods.

A tired-looking man answered the door, his expensive clothes looking worn down and his hair in need of a cut. Killian had expected more of the famous portal-maker, but he’d also heard that after fleeing the Enchanted Forest and leaving the service of the Dark One, he’d fallen on rather hard times. He’d returned home at some point, and that suited Killian just fine. It had made him easier to find.

“What do you want?” He asked, looking Killian up and down. His eyes narrowed as it become obvious that his visitor was a pirate. In fact, he looked even more nervous than most people whose homes he showed up at unannounced. His knuckles had gone white with the force with which he was gripping the door, and his face had drained of color.

“I’m not here to rob you, if that’s what’s got you looking so uneasy.” Killian sneered, putting a foot in the doorway so that the man couldn’t close him out. “Quite the opposite. I’m here for information, and I intend to pay you for it.”

“I don’t make deals with pirates.” He seemed to relax slightly, but not by much.

“You misunderstand me, _Jefferson_.” The poor man tensed at his name. “What I want is something that, from what I’ve heard about you, may bring a little joy to…all of this.”

“Oh really?” Jefferson grit his teeth. “Just get on with it—tell me what you need.”

“To make a fool of the Dark One.” Killian explained. “I need to know how to get past his defenses, and from what I hear, you’re the man to talk to. As I said,” He held up a bag of gold. “I will pay you handsomely.

A child started to cry from behind the hatter, and it seemed that his child’s wellbeing was enough to convince Jefferson to help the captain.

“Come in. I’ll tell you what you want, but I expect no payment. All I ask is that you must never return.”

Days later, Killian realized that Jefferson had spun him lies. He was still no closer to killing Rumpelstiltskin, and refused to remain a fool in the eyes of the hatter. Spitting with rage, he pounded his fist against the shack’s door.

“Jefferson!” He snarled. “Let me in—I need to have a word with you!”

The door opened, and the hatter answered, looking even more tired than before.

“What is it?” He asked, exasperated. “I gave you what you want, and it seems that you don’t remember your promise not to bother me again.”

“ _You_ promised to help me breach the Dark One’s defenses—you lied!”

Jefferson rolled his eyes, and Killian thought about killing him until he remembered that the man had a child, but no wife to be seen. He may have been a pirate, but he wasn’t quite in the mood to orphan anyone.

“My former employer is an all-knowing, extremely powerful, ancient magical being. Do you think that he’s so dull as to not change his locks? I told you what I know, but it’s been well over a year since I worked for Rumpelstiltskin.” 

“How do I know you’re not lying?”

“You don’t.” Jefferson said, sounding honest enough. “And you never will.” 

Killian’s anger subsided enough for him to think clearly. Jefferson was in no position to bargain, and he had a child to care for. Lying to Killian could have brought his family harm—and from what little he’d heard, the portal hopper had given up everything for his daughter. He must be telling the truth. 

“Fine,” he growled. 

“Will that be all?” Jefferson asked, standing defensively in the doorway. “I have things to do.” 

Killian thought it over. It was fairly late, and he’d skipped a few meals in his haste to beat the hatter to a bloody pulp. 

“You owe me dinner,” he decided, crossing his arms. Part of him was just curious. He’d spoken to some of the hatter’s customers and employers, and they remembered him as a well-dressed, snarky little shit. This man was broken.

“You’ll rob me blind.” 

“As you said, you have nothing worth stealing.” 

“Fine.” 

In Storybrooke, Killian Jones rolls over in his cot and wishes that Jefferson had never been born. He’d ended up staying in that little shack for a good week. Every time he’d wanted to leave, something about the way that Jefferson’s eyes crinkled when he smiled—or the love he had for his daughter—made him make up an excuse to stay put. 

He hadn’t understood it at the time, but as they shared what was left of the rum that Killian had his person, he had the strangest urge to kiss him. This wasn’t the first time he’d wanted to be with another man, but he’d thought that he’d beaten the urge out of himself with years of ignoring his desires and bedding every woman in every port from the Enchanted Forest to Neverland. 

The way that Jefferson’s smile made his cock twitch and his hands sweat was enough to make him high-tail it out of Fairytale Land.

That, unfortunately, hadn’t been their last encounter. Shortly after meeting Killian, Jefferson had started visiting different realms again in an attempt to provide for his daughter. Thieves and pirates crossed paths more often than not, and when Jefferson gave up his hat for good, Killian breathed out a sigh of relief. 

Things had been ok after that, for a while. If nothing else, the business with Cora and the curse had taken Killian’s mind off of his sexuality. He’d hardly thought about Jefferson at all, and when he had—when Cora crossed her arms and stared him down until he explained why he was crying as he stroked himself to hardness—the Queen of Hearts had taken care of it. 

She’d punished him for such impure thoughts, and he’d been so grateful that he let her do whatever she wanted in return. It had been painful, painful bliss. Now Cora is gone, and there is no one to keep his thoughts in check. 

Storybrooke is making it even worse. Killian often hears people say that Jefferson is a recluse, yet he seems to see him everywhere. Not for the first time, Captain Hook wonders if he can drink himself not into another world, but a new universe entirely where the hatter’s smile can’t haunt him every time that he tries to sleep away his memory. 

It’s all Emma’s fault—if she’d just kept things as they were, none of these thoughts would be surfacing. Gritting his teeth, he curls up in his cot and lets out a ragged sob. 

No one was supposed to know.

 

 

**Ruby**

She stands in front of her mirror, stripped down to her underwear. Turning slightly, she admires the curve of her waist, and traces it down to her hip. Her hair is loose, falling down well past her shoulder blades. 

The curse blessed her with some of the most expensive underwear in Storybrooke. Her push-up bra, red and black and lacey, suits her perfectly. The matching panties eventuate the swell of her ass and the arc of her stomach down to her crotch.  Her skin is clear, her limbs long, and her smile bright and genuine. Flawless. 

Ruby knows that she is beautiful. She knows it because people have told her so for as long as she can remember, even back in the Enchanted Forest. When she was small, everyone had told Granny what a pretty granddaughter she had. The child had always giggled and grinned, and Granny had given her a pat on the head and told her that looks weren’t everything. 

Even when Ruby was too young to really understand her grandmother’s good advice, the woman had given it. It was in her nature. 

As time had continued on, as it always does, she had only grown more beautiful. People noticed. She’d been happy enough to use her good looks to get free sweets at the market, or an extra pound of meat at the butcher’s. 

It had escalated in Storybrooke. For twenty-eight years, she dressed in skin-tight, scanty, scandalous outfits that men took as invitations to catcall and grope her. For twenty-eight years her days passed by almost identically, full of what felt like tight, leather rebellion but was really nothing more than curse-induced routine.

Now that the curse has broken and Ruby and Red are one in the same, she’s found a happen medium between the good-hearted werewolf and unruly waitress. Although she still jumps up and down to fit into skintight jeans every morning, she also finds herself growing fond of comfortable flannels. 

Keeping her hair colored and fashionable became a little too much work when time truly began to move forward, and so she let her hair fall free down her back with minimal styling, though she still takes impeccable care of it. She can’t quite part with her extensive shoe collection, but knows when to switch to hiking boots. 

There are some things that Ruby and Red have in common. One is the need to please the people she cares about—mostly Granny. In both worlds she’s looked up to the older woman. That will never change. Snow, Emma, Ashley, and her other friends are also very important to her, and she wants nothing more than to keep those who she loves happy and safe. 

Her lack of interest in all things carnal had also extended to her Storybrooke persona, despite her wardrobe and coquettish mannerisms. 

Once a man who worked at the docks had started talking to her while she was out at the Rabbit Hole. He’d sidled up to her at the bar and bought her a drink. Now, years later, she can’t even remember his name or what he looked like, just that he’d smelled like liquor and the sea. It might have been Eric, Ariel’s prince, but she can’t be sure. Some of her memories from the curse are foggy, and she knows that others feel the same. 

It had been a common enough scenario for her. The attention was welcome, and it was nice to receive it outside of Granny’s. Speaking of her grandmother, she’d been well aware that she’d get a scolding the next morning, but that didn’t matter. The waitress was out to have fun, not listen to the matriarch of the diner. It had been a beautiful night, she remembered that. The middle of summer. 

She’d been happy and tipsy, and was greatly enjoying their conversation. Then he kissed her. That was okay. She liked him, and it had been a long time since she’d been this close with a boy. 

 Then he’d put his hand up under her shirt and asked if she wanted to go home with him, and even though he was being respectful and courteous she suddenly felt like crying. Instead, she told him that she had work in the morning and kissed him goodbye before hurrying outside to get some fresh air. 

She knew that she was supposed to want to go home with men like him. He’d been incredibly handsome, and his kisses had made her feel warm and tingly from her head to her toes. Seeing men like that is supposed to set her alight with desire. She’s supposed to want them to _touch_ her, but she’s never wanted that. 

Is she broken? 

Before starting to walk back down the street towards Granny’s, she considered going back into the bar and taking the man up on his offer. Maybe all that she needed to do was go for it and let a man show her what she was supposed to want.

The thought made her want to throw up (or maybe it was just the alcohol) and so she walked home, took off her makeup, curled up in bed, and didn’t sleep. 

It’s been years since then, and now she stands in front of her mirror wondering what’s wrong with her. 

No one she’s ever known has had this problem. Even Snow, for all of her goodness and purity, admits every now and then something to new that Charming has learned in the bedroom, and how much she wants him. Ruby doesn’t know what it’s like to need someone that way. 

Emma’s the only one she’s ever admitted it to. A time or two she’s considered telling Snow, but she can practically hear what the princess (queen?) would say. Oh, you just need to find the right man! That’s what she’d said about Rose, when Ruby had brought up her old friend in conversation. She just hadn’t found the right man, but she would, and it would be fine. 

Ruby would defend Snow to the grave. Her friend is compassionate, kind, and gentle…but there are some things that she just doesn’t understand, and one of them is love outside of the fairytale bubble that she and her prince found happiness in. Maybe one day that will change. Ruby certainly hopes so. 

Resentment hits her like a hammer in the next instant, because it’s been a long time since she’s thought about this at all. If Emma hadn’t brought it up, she wouldn’t be thinking these thoughts—she wouldn’t be hurting like this. She’s still staring into the mirror. Tears are running down her face, leaving little lines in her foundation and smearing her eyeliner. She’s still beautiful, even then, but she still feels abnormal. 

She’d wanted to be with Peter. She’d loved him (still loves him). But sex had never been a part of that. When she’d thought about running away with him she’d imagined that eventually have a kid or two, but their wedding night had never been something that was a part of her fantasy. 

He’d never pushed for sex, and so she’d never thought about it. Thinking back (and she didn’t like to, because she’d _killed_ him) it had been almost strange that their young romance hadn’t included any fumbling hands underneath their clothes. She wonders if he was like her. 

She wonders if anyone is like her.

 

**Jefferson**

He’s more tired than he should be. The day was easy. Grace was away at school. He went shopping for groceries and a new jacket. Dinner was simple. Now, his daughter is in bed and he hopes that her dreams are full of wonder and light. 

With far too much on his mind, he sits in his kitchen at the table with a steaming mug of tea, unable to sleep despite the late hour. Emma’s visit had unearthed some old demons he’d never really be able to put to rest.

Alice rises to the forefront of his thoughts, and his chest constricts with unbearable pain, as he realizes, not for the first time, that he can never see her again. He thinks about Regina as she used to be, and guilt consumes him. 

He isn’t meant for that kind of love. All he can do is hurt. 

After Alice passed away, and he realized what Regina had become, he had thought in passing that he should never love again. He had after all, for a time, had far more love than any one person deserved. It had been foolish to think that he deserved to have such wonderful women as his lovers. 

Back then he’d been at his most reckless. They all had. It hadn’t even crossed his mind that the summer of their youth would ever end. That any of them would ever have to start _really_ growing up. No, they’d all be twenty-something and full of potential forever. What an idiot. He should have at least seen it in Regina, in the pain of her marriage and her role as queen.

Alice’s wit and laughter had kept their little trio uplifted and happy enough. Jefferson couldn’t remember exactly how they’d settled into loving one another equally, but even now he couldn’t bring himself to truly regret that part of it. 

Without all of that pain he might not have their daughter, after all. 

Gripping his mug as he drinks tea and tries to calm down (even days after his conversation with Ms. Swan he’s on edge) he breathes out a deep sigh. His daughter is a gift, but Alice is dead and Regina became a monster and it’s all his fault.

He wonders, then, if he should have told Emma Swan the truth when she came knocking at his door inquiring about Regina. Although he’d shown the amount of honesty he was comfortable with given that the topic of conversation was the love of his life (both Regina and Alice—the love that all three of them had shared was the greatest romance he would ever experience) but he’d elected to keep certain details private. 

In short, he had chosen to lie. He didn’t feel bad about it. His lies hadn’t been about Regina, they’d been about the other two participants in their love affair: himself and Alice. If he’d told the story in its entirety, with complete honesty, he would have kept the sheriff in his home much longer than either of them wanted. He would have told her things that she didn’t deserve to know. 

Things that he never wanted anyone in Storybrooke to know, because he knew exactly how they would look at him. They’d look at him like they looked at Regina—or even worse. 

He hadn’t told Emma because it wasn’t any of her business. 

The latest he can begin his story is at the moment his mother died. 

Jefferson had been training to use the hat since he was a small child, and he loved his mother very much. When she’d died suddenly of a disease picked up in a world he would never again visit, Caprica, he’d been devastated. The responsibility of the hat that had been in their family for generations was suddenly on his shoulders, and his mother—who he’d loved very much—was gone forever. 

At the same time, he’d been liberated. For all of his life he’d only wanted one thing, a deep dark secret that he hadn’t dared share with his mother for fear of being rejected by the only family he had. He liked to think that she would have accepted him without a second thought, but as it turned out fate hadn’t wanted to give him a chance to ask. 

Without the pressure of not knowing what she’d say, he was free to make his dreams come true.

That was how he faced Rumpelstiltskin alone for the first time, in a coat three sizes too large and wearing two pairs of thick socks to fit into his father’s old shoes. He wore his late father’s clothes whenever he could—the antique style and fine handwork appealed to him. They were far too big, but that didn’t matter. They made him feel more like himself.  

“I know that my mother has made deals with you,” He said boldly, sleeves rolled up and fists clenched at his sides. They were in the Dark One’s palace, a place Jefferson had often visited with his mother. “I want to make one, too.” 

“You think that you can make a deal with me? You’re just a child,” the Dark One had sneered, looking at the teenager in front of him. “A child with a very powerful hat, but a child.” He sighed. “What is it you want?” 

Swallowing hard, Jefferson held his father’s jacket tightly across his chest, almost afraid to ask the imp. He’d never said it out loud before. Not even to himself. 

“Oh.” Rumpelstiltskin breathed out and leaned forward. “I know what you want.” 

Jefferson clenched his teeth and ran his fingers through short, poorly cut dark hair. It had been longer before his mother died, but as soon as she’d been laid to rest he’d taken out her finest pair of scissors and chopped off his long hair, partially in mourning and partially because it was what he’d always wanted. 

“I can help you—I _will_ help you,” the Dark One decided, pacing around Jefferson and looking at him with a gaze that made him feel transparent. “Your mother was a great asset. You can consider this an advance payment on what I _know_ will be a long and fulfilling relationship. How does that sound?” 

“Wonderful!” Jefferson’s voice almost broke, because he had _never_ expected it to be this easy.

“I can’t give you _exactly_ what you want and make it permanent, but I will do the best that I can and it will last forever. Is that acceptable?” 

“Yes!” Jefferson answered immediately. “When?” 

“Well, right now, of course. You’re not the first one to come to me wanting this.” The Dark One stood and waved his hand. A bottler materialized in mid-air, and he caught it. “You drink this, I cast a spell, and we’re in business.” He tossed it to the young portal jumper, who caught it eagerly. “You’re sure this is what you want?” 

“It’s what I’ve always wanted,” Jefferson said honestly. 

“Very well. Bottoms up.” Rumpelstiltskin raised a hand, ready to cast the spell as soon as the contents of the bottle passed Jefferson’s lips. 

He swallowed the vile-tasting liquid, and his insides felt like they were on fire. The magic hit him a moment later, and he collapsed to the ground in pain. 

“Oh, I forgot to mention—it’s rather excruciating,” Rumpelstiltskin giggled, stroking his chin thoughtfully and magicking a mirror out of nowhere. 

“Well? How do you feel?” The Dark One asked once Jefferson had stopped writhing in pain and the spell had finished its job. “Take a look.” 

Jefferson looked up, into the mirror, and started to cry. Unable to believe what he saw, the young man slowly rose to his feet, hands trembling as he felt his flat chest under his open shirt. The buttons hadn’t held up to the spell. 

His father’s suit fit for the first time (his shoes were now far too tight, and he sub-consciously loosened the laces to relieve the pressure) and that in itself was enough to make him start sobbing openly. 

“Do you like what you see, dearie?” Rumpelstiltskin asked, leaning down and offering Jefferson a handkerchief. 

All that the portal jumper could do was nod enthusiastically and blow his nose. 

Gone was the narrow torso—the full hips—the generous breasts that he’d been made of only minutes before. His haircut was still shitty, but at least no one in the Enchanted Forest would bat an eyelash at short hair on _this_ body. 

“As I’ve said, not _everything_ is different. I’ve changed what you already have—if I’d given you a new body entirely, it wouldn’t be permanent. It would be a spell that could be broken or undone. I assure you that this is for the best.” Rumpelstiltskin explained, crinkling his nose as Jefferson all but destroyed his handkerchief. “You still need to take precautions with people of the—er—phallic persuasion, but—“ 

“I don’t care. I don’t care,” Jefferson hiccupped, finally, _finally_ , in his own body. “Thank you.” 

“No need for thanks. We made a deal, J—“ 

“Jefferson.” The young man cut the Dark One off. “Call me Jefferson.”

Rumpelstiltskin raised a brow. 

“A little old-fashioned, but alright. Jefferson.” 

Decades later, he runs his fingers through his professionally cut, meticulously styled hair and wonders if he should have told Emma the truth. The real reason he and his lover had needed to flee to another land to protect their child. Regina could have been a parent to Grace, too, if she’d wanted. Sometimes Jefferson wondered if that was why she hadn’t gone with them—had she been afraid of being a mother? 

It hadn’t been Alice who was carrying Grace: it had been Jefferson.

**Regina**

After Emma leaves, Regina stares at the closed door with no color in her face, and her arms limp at her sides. When she finally moves, it’s simply to sink down onto one of the bottom steps leading up to Henry’s room. 

Her son is away at the moment. With his grandparents. The thought of that usually brings rage, but now she just feels empty, and a little scared. 

It’s been years since anyone has spoken to her about the rumors. Even Snow White never mentioned them out loud, because the prissy little idiot was too good to ever articulate such impure thoughts. That had been fine with Regina. She wanted everyone to forget. She never wanted to think about Alice again. 

When Leopold had caught her kissing Alice (not even fucking, they were just _kissing_ ) in her room, he had been outraged. If Jefferson hadn’t shown up (her husband was supposed to be away, they were supposed to be safe) Regina doesn’t know what would have happened. 

Regina had told her lovers to leave (“Just _go!”_ ) and though they’d briefly tried to convince the queen to come with them, guards had been fast approaching and so they’d vanished into Jefferson’s hat before Leopold could make them stay. 

Alice had been one of her handmaidens at the time. It had been surprisingly easy to get her lover a job in the queen’s service, and it had made their affair much easier. They’d been planning on waiting for Jefferson to whisk them away to a place where they could all safely spend the evening together, but Regina hadn’t been able to resist pulling Alice close, not after she heard the news that the other woman had for her. 

“So, Regina…” she’d said, clearing her throat a little. Her face was flushed, and she looked nervous. “Do you remember a few weeks ago…when Jefferson took us on a trip, and we spent the night with that man from the tavern?” 

Color rose in Regina’s cheeks, and she gave a little nod. They’d all been a little drunk and feeling mutually adventurous, and had decided to add a fourth player to their trio for a few hours, just to see if it was something they were interested in. 

Or rather, Alice had mentioned that for her birthday what she’d really like to see was Jefferson in bed with another man. He’d mentioned in passing his attraction to his gender, and had been perfectly willing to give a demonstration for his two favorite women in the world. 

So Regina and Alice had watched, aroused and breathless, as Jefferson opened his wicked, wicked mouth and took the handsome man they’d picked up to bed. He’d done his absolute best to put on a show for his lovers, and had allowed the stranger to fuck him, though that part of it hadn’t lasted long. It was still one of the most erotic experiences of Regina’s life. 

Even now, after everything, the memory sends a shiver down Regina’s spine. She can remember what Alice’s hand felt like under her skirts as they watched their lover, and the sounds that Jefferson had made as he performed for them. Alice had helped them finish in the end, but Regina had found herself overwhelmed just by watching, and had finished herself off as a voyeur.

It had been incredible. 

Afterwards they’d decided that it wasn’t something they’d ever do again, but it had been a nice experiment, all the same. 

“I remember,” Regina whispered, face reddening as memories of that night raced through her mind. “What of it?” 

“Well, we only just found out—and I wanted to tell you as soon as possible. It’s just…you see, I…” Alice was stumbling over her words, which in itself was strange. She was normally very articulate. 

“What is it, Alice? Is everything alright?” Regina had asked, brow furrowed as she took her lover’s hands. 

“We’re going to have a baby,” Alice had whispered, eyes wide as she searched the queen’s face for a reaction. 

Regina would have normally worried and fretted from the start, but instead she was filled with joy at those simple words. Unable to help herself, tears in her eyes, she’d pulled Alice in. 

It had been at that exact moment that her husband appeared in the doorway, and everything had gone wrong. Leopold had kept her under careful watch after that for a long time. She’d only seen Alice and Jefferson once more after that.

They’d come out of Jefferson’s hat in the middle of the night, and begged her to run away with them. 

“I can’t,” she’d said, curled up in herself with her lovers on either side of her. “I need to stay here.” 

“But you hate it here…” Jefferson whispered, running his fingers through the queen’s hair. “And we love you so much. And we’re having a _baby_. I—I don’t want to do it without you, Regina. I can’t.” It was one of the only times that the queen had seen the hatter cry, and she’d been confused. 

He was going to be a father, and that was wonderful. She would have expected Alice to be the one in tears. 

“I love you, too,” Regina whispered, tears in her eyes as Alice buried her face in the back of her neck. “But I can’t go with you.” She hesitated. “I wish you could stay here with me. I’m sorry.” 

“I know.” Alice’s voice broke. “I’m sorry, too.” 

Sitting on the stairs of her home, all these years later, Regina draws in a deep, shuddering breath. Maybe she should have gone with them, but—but no. She wouldn’t have Henry if she’d done that. 

You’d have Grace, a little voice in the back of her mind whispers. And you might have been able to save Alice. Even if you hadn’t, the child would have had a mother and a father. 

Regina brings her knees to her chest and curses Emma’s name. She hasn’t thought about Alice for years. It hurts too much. After learning that she’d died it had been easy to start hating Jefferson. She’d been at the height of her run as the Evil Queen, too—that had helped. 

She’d never hated the child of course. Grace had no part to play in any of their mistakes. She was an innocent child. 

But Jefferson? Jefferson deserved to suffer, and so when it had come time to cast the curse, she’d made sure that her former lover would never feel happiness again. They are all different people now, of course. She knows that she should find him, maybe talk to him about everything that’s happened, but she just _can’t_. 

Especially if the rumors are resurfacing. After Leopold found her with Alice it seemed that everyone knew, and the looks that she got from people both within and outside of the palace carried a new kind of disdain. That had been part of what wore her down and turned her into the Evil Queen in the first place. 

She’s tried desperately to create a new identity over the past few years, and if Emma can’t let her do that, she doesn’t know what she’ll do. If Henry finds out that she’s loved a woman, and decides to reject her because of it, she knows it could be the end of her.

**Emma**

Biting her lip, Emma shifts from one foot to the other as she stands in front of the door to Mary Margaret’s apartment. She’s done a lot of thinking over the past week, and has decided that it’s time. 

She’s going to do it. 

She’s going to come out to her parents.


	3. Three awkward confrontations, all of which end in laughter.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jefferson and Regina air out old wounds, Emma comes out to her parents, and Killian tries desperately and unsuccessfully to change himself. Trigger warnings for this chapter: homophobia, dysphoria, and a mentions of a transman's pregnancy.

**Part 3: Three awkward confrontations, all of which end in laughter.**

**Regina**

 

Regina keeps her mouth open slightly as she finishes applying her lip-liner. Once the definition is perfect, she pops open her most dangerous shade of red, and carefully presses it to her lips with finesse that comes from years of applying only the highest quality cosmetics.

Sitting up, she examines herself. She looks dangerous. That’s good. The power to intimidate will be important no matter how far removed she becomes from her years as the Evil Queen. It’s especially important today, because she’s going to visit an old friend. The last thing that she wants is to lose control of what she’s well aware could spiral into an emotional mess.

It’s just after noon on a Thursday. Jefferson should be home. She hasn’t called ahead because she expects he won’t want to talk to her. Dropping by without notice isn’t polite, but she can’t stop thinking about Alice and he’s the only one who understands.

She’s spent the morning in her kitchen making what used to be Jefferson’s favorite sweet, a sort of almond biscuit that he’d always begged her to steal from the kitchen for him. Although she’s never made them herself before, she’s rather proud of how they turned out.

They’re not exactly a peace offering, but she’s hoping that the gesture might buy them a few minutes of amicability. After all, their last meeting hadn’t been exactly friendly.

As she gets out of her car, she takes a moment to look at the expensive prison that she trapped her ex-lover in for almost three decades. It’s just as grand as her own home. She wonders what it was like to spend nearly every waking moment alone, two sets of memories battling it out inside of an already unstable mind.

Guilt tugs at her gut, and she can’t seem to vanquish it. In fact, it only seems to get stronger as she rings the doorbell.

There are footsteps. They stop, and Regina assumes that the hatter is looking at her through the keyhole.

“I don’t want to talk to you.” Jefferson says through the door.

“Please.” Regina forces the word out.

“No.”

“It’s about Alice.” The mayor says as loudly as she can muster. She feels nauseous. It’s a name that hasn’t left her lips since well before she cast the dark curse. She can practically hear Jefferson hesitate and reconsider, and then the door opens.

“I thought you were _done with me_.” He retorts, mocking their last private encounter. She finds herself relieved to find that he looks much healthier than he had at their last encounter. His cheeks aren’t as hollow, and there’s more color in his skin.

“I brought you sweets.” She pushes the basket into his arms and walks past him into the kitchen. “If I remember correctly, you take them with tea and lemon.”

As Jefferson slowly trails behind her, he picks up one of the pastries and stares at it with misty eyes in a moment of defenselessness that she hadn’t expected quite so soon after being let into his home.

“I didn’t think you remembered.” He murmurs, expression hardening a moment later as he cocks an eyebrow and meets her gaze. “And I didn’t think that you were capable of baking without apples.”

“I’m full of surprises.” She says dryly, filling his kettle with water. As Jefferson fetches mugs, tealeaves, and plates for the biscuits she makes her way to the fridge. It’s covered in Grace’s drawings and homework assignments.

They’re good enough for an eleven-year-old. She knows how proud he must be of her, and how happy he must be to have his child back. That’s something that she can relate to.

She moves aside so that Jefferson can fetch lemon from the fridge. Unsure how else to help, she sits down at the table and thinks that the house is too big for just one man and his daughter. If she’d gone with them, she wonders, would they have had more children?

Would they have filled a house up with laughter and babies? Stop, she chides herself. It doesn’t do any good to think about missed opportunities. Jefferson glances at her but doesn’t say anything as he sets the table. The kettle starts whistling a minute or two later, and soon enough they’re seated together at the small table in the kitchen squeezing lemon wedges into their mugs and looking rather uncomfortable.

“So…” Jefferson starts, biting his lip. “You said that you wanted to talk about Alice.”

“Yes. I miss her.” Regina admits, her voice barely a whisper as she refuses to look at him.

“Oh, Regina…” He sighs, dunking one of the biscuits in his tea and taking a bite. She glances up and sees nostalgia and pain in his eyes. That was one of the reasons she’d baked something that would remind him of the time that they’d spent together with Alice.

She wanted him to talk.

“You could have come with us.” He reminds her. “We wanted you to.”

“I know, I know.” She sighs, taking a biscuit and giving it a nibble. They’re dry and not very sweet. Why Jefferson loves them so much is a mystery to her, but she can still remember the boyish wonder that would cross his face whenever she presented them to him. He’d tried to kiss her with crumbs on his lips and she’d pushed him away laughing. “…but I wanted revenge. I wanted—“

“It’s too late for regrets. We are where we are now.” Jefferson cuts her off. “Maybe Alice and I should have tried harder…but Leopold had a price on her head, and—“

“And you had to protect the baby.” Regina finishes. “I know, I know. Alice was pregnant and you couldn’t r—“

Jefferson pulls away from her as much as he can without standing up. The biscuit falls from his fingers. His face drains of color. She can almost hear his heartbeat.

“Jefferson?” Regina asks, confused and startled by the sudden change. “What’s wrong? That’s why you left, isn’t it? Alice was pregnant. That’s what you s—“

“No. _No_.” He shakes his head and grips the table, and she grows nervous. “Alice wasn’t, Regina. I—I was. I was.” He stares at her like he’s never known her at all.

“You were?...” She speaks slowly, because now half of what she’d thought about Alice and Jefferson’s life after her is wrong. “But Jefferson, I didn’t think you could—“

“Regina,” Jefferson is almost shaky, and she’s a little scared. “You have been more intimate with me than anyone in this godforsaken town. You _know_ I—“

“Fine, _Fine_.” She says, masking her sudden guilt with anger. He’s right, of course. She’s known since their first time that Jefferson was not born with the body of a dashing gentleman, and she still knows exactly what he looks like underneath his clothes, but she’d never considered that his body was still capable of carrying children. “So why didn’t you tell me—“

“I did!” He snaps. “I told you. When we tried to take you with us. I told you that I didn’t want to do it without you! I told you that I needed you!”

Regina falls silent, and thinks back to what Alice and Jefferson had said when they’d asked her to go with them. Even after all of these years, she remembers that night vividly. He’s not wrong.

“Well, at least you had Alice.” She eventually says, keeping her words short. “I didn’t have anyone.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Jefferson looks like he’s in pain. “I’m never going to stop feeling guilty for leaving you, Regina—but I didn’t have a choice. You left us, too.”

For years Regina has told herself that Jefferson abandoned her and was responsible for Alice’s death, but now she isn’t so sure. It feels like she might throw up. It occurs to her that she’s never asked about Alice’s death. She knows that it happened within five years of the pregnancy (Jefferson’s pregnancy, she now realizes) but she isn’t sure exactly when it occurred.

“Did you…I…” She’s at a loss for words, a rarity. “Were you alone? When Grace was born, I mean. Was Alice already gone?”

She’s afraid to hear the answer, and breaths a sigh of relief when the man across from her answers.

“No.” He mumbles. The hatter isn’t meeting her gaze anymore. His arms are crossed tightly over his chest and he’s looking at the floor. “Alice died when Grace was three. We were together for Grace’s birth.” Regina sees him swallow. “And…But….” He’s struggling.

Suddenly there are tears running down Jefferson’s face. She hasn’t seen him like this since he asked her to run away. Every few moments his body tenses and shakes with a repressed sob.

“I wanted you there.” He manages to say, as he begins to tremble. “I just wanted you to be there.”

Regina feels like her heart has been stolen and crushed to dust.

For years she’s conceived memories of Jefferson catering to Alice’s every need as her stomach grew rounder and they both waited for Grace’s arrival. Now, that vision is gone, and instead she thinks about what Jefferson’s pregnancy must have been like.

He’d been terrified of being discovered—of being called a woman. The first time they’d gone to bed together he’d been scared that she’d reject him, or worse, out him. He’d once admitted to her that there were still times when he’d look between his legs and hate himself.

Sometimes he’d politely excuse himself when Regina and Alice craved intimacy. He said that he was just tired, but they’d all known that wasn’t what he meant. It had been strange, and unsettling, to see a person who was usually so confident be so immersed in self-doubt over something that mattered so little to his lovers.

Regina had never cared about that.

The hatter, she recalls, has always been anxious. She imagines that pregnancy, the epitome of so-called womanhood, must have nearly killed him.

Wetness on the hand she’s been gripping her mug with startles her, and she realizes that Jefferson isn’t the only one who’s crying.

“I’m sorry,” she chokes out.

They’re on the floor holding each other and crying like children. Regina sheds her tears elegantly enough, but Jefferson sobs openly into her chest, his arms around her as they finally, _finally_ , give up the game that they’ve been playing for far too long.

“It’s okay…” She whispers, rubbing his back and letting her chin rest on the top of his head. “It’s okay.” Her breath hitches, and she admits the reason that she’s been so cruel. “I love you.”

He pulls back and looks at her, his eyes red and puffy as his hands move up to cup her face.

“I never wanted you to hurt like that.”

All that she can do is nod and press their foreheads together, taking inventory of just how much he’s aged. She wonders how much younger she would look of she hadn’t sworn to ruin his happiness along with everyone else who had ever wronged her.

There are still many things she can’t forgive, but she decides that she can find room in her heart for the man in front of her who never really left it in the first place. She’s heard people say that hate isn’t the opposite of love: there’s too much passion there. She’s not sure how much she agrees with the idea, but it describes her feelings for Jefferson well enough.

Not that it matters. She can’t fight him anymore.

He hiccups, she laughs, and then they’re helping each other up and sitting back down at the table. Despite the tension that’s been lifted between them, she feels like she’s walking on glass. Things are different than they were only minutes before. She feels raw. 

With no trace of refinement, Jefferson stuffs an entire biscuit into his mouth and Regina snorts with laughter.

 

**Emma**

 

Biting her lip, Emma shifts from one foot to the other as she stands in front of the door to Mary Margaret’s apartment. She’s done a lot of thinking over the past week, and has decided that it’s time.

She’s going to do it.

She’s going to come out to her parents.

“David?” Emma abuses the doorbell to the point of what she knows is extreme obnoxiousness. “I’m here!”

The door opens and her mother pulls her into an embrace.

“Emma! We haven’t seen you in days. How are you?” Snow asks, bubbling over with cheer as she looks at her daughter.

“I’m fine.” The Savior grins awkwardly and walks through the door, making herself comfortable on the couch and watching her parents as they bring three mugs over to the coffee-table. “What about you guys? How’s the little guy?”

“Wonderful.” David gushes, looking proud as can be. “He’s sleeping right now. Getting bigger every day. Maybe he’ll wake up before you leave.”

“I hope not.” Snow groans. “I’ve always loved babies, but I had no idea how little they slept! In the Enchanted Forest, we always had servants t—“

“Please tell me you’re not complaining about being able to take care of your son yourself,” Emma cuts in.

“Oh! No, no!” Snow shakes her head, face red. “That’s not what I meant.” She takes a quick gulp of tea that’s obviously too hot, and flinches. “So—what did you want to talk about?”

“Right.” Emma goes quiet for a moment. David’s earnest smile is the only thing that makes her keep going. “I…there’s something important that I forgot to tell you. A lot has happened since the curse broke, and there are a few things that just sort of never came up.”

“Like what?” David asks. “Is everything okay, Emma? Are you in trouble?”

“No! No, nothing like that.” She assures him. “It’s just…I…” At first she thinks about going on a tangent about Neal and all of the other men she’s been with, but that would be stupid. There’s no need to assure her parents that she’s attracted to men when the entire point of this conversation is to inform them that she’s also attracted to women. “I’m bisexual.”

David’s face contorts to resemble that of a puppy seeing a mirror for the first time.

“What?” Snow’s voice raises in pitch. “What did you have sex with, Emma? Is this about Walsh—it’s okay, we found out that he was originally a man, remember, I—“

“You know what I said, Mom.” Emma adds the last word on to calm Snow down, but her mom doesn’t look any less distressed. “I’m bisexual. I always have been. I loved Neal, but I’ve been in love before. With _girls_.”

“No—is this a joke? Is there—a—a camera?” Snow’s voice is shrill. It reminds Emma of a bird. Emma feels sick.

“No.” She suddenly feels very small, just like when her foster parents had told her that she was a mistake, and sent her away for falling in love. They’d taken back everything they’d ever given her, except for a bible. Emma had burned it.

“You can’t be.” Snow decides loudly. “You’re a _princess_.”

“We’re not in the Enchanted Forest, Mary Margaret!” Emma snaps, because she just can’t stay passive when her mother is trying to deny her identity. “Maine isn’t in the dark ages. People love who they love.”

“What? So old men should be able to—“

“That’s not at all the same thing!” Emma stands up. “I love you but I’m not going to take this back. Not again.” She’s crying and she hates it. In that moment she’s so infuriated with her mother that she doesn’t notice David standing up to follow her out of the apartment. He stills Mary Margaret from following with a classic I’ll-take-care-of-it smile and joins their daughter outside the apartment.

“Emma,” he says, brow furrowed slightly as he takes his daughter by the arm.

“I’m not going to listen to you tell me that I’m something I’m not,” Emma says defensively. He shakes his head a little bit.

“No.” He almost looks scared, but not of her, and that’s enough to stop Emma from wrenching her arm away and driving off. “Let’s go for a drive.”

Emma nods a little and sniffs, letting David finish putting on his coat before they get into his truck. She’s a little anxious, but not frightened of being alone in a vehicle with her potentially-very-homophobic father. She knows that they love each other.

“Where are we going?” she asks, even though Storybrooke is a small town and she knows that they’re heading towards the harbor.

“I thought that I’d have Granny fill up my thermos with cider, and then we could sit by the water and talk.” He hesitates as he stops in front of the diner. “Is…is that okay?”

“Yeah.” Emma nods a little. Her heart is pounding in her chest because she doesn’t know what’s going to happen.

Ten minutes later they’re sipping at the sweet, hot liquid as they sit bundled up on a bench looking out over the water.

“Do you know how things were in the Enchanted Forest?” he asks eventually.

“Yes.” Emma nods. “Ruby told me. It happened to one of her friends. Did you know that? Her _best friend_ got turned away by the town she’d grown up in just because she couldn’t help who she loved.” She snorts. “Some fairytale that is…”

David nods a little, and draws a deep breath.

“Among peasants—like me, when I was growing up—it used to be that it was okay as long as it was behind closed doors.” Emma doesn’t speak, because David seems like he’s choosing his words carefully and this is a story that he’s never told before. “Snow loved her father, but he was one of the biggest enforcers of those laws that the Enchanted Forest had ever seen.”

“There was a butcher who’d lived in the village by our farm for years, sharing a cottage with the tanner, who had also never married. Everybody _knew_ , but they’d been born and raised with the rest of us so we left them alone. Then Leopold’s people found out, and then they were gone.” He swallows hard. “No one even…no one even tried to get them back.”

“They were good men, Emma,” David adds, voice breaking. “The butcher was always good to us, after my dad…” He sighs. “There was someone else, too.”

Emma leans against him, letting her father put an arm around her shoulders. She wonders how long it’s been since he thought about this.

“He was the son of a local carpenter. Jack.” There’s a long pause after that. It’s not until Emma squeezes his hand that he keeps going. “I wasn’t…it wasn’t like what I have with your mother, but I did love him.”

“Everybody thought that we were just friends. There weren’t many young men in the village. It was natural that we’d be drawn to each other. We’d…we’d sneak out at night and kiss in the woods.”

“What happened to him?” Emma asks.

“I don’t know,” David admits. “I was pulled away to become a prince. It was tough saying goodbye, but then I met your mother. I never told you. You can probably guess why.”

“Yeah.” Emma rests her head on David’s shoulder. “Were there…where there other?...”

“Other boys?” David asks, and Emma nods. “I mean…I’m in love with your mother now. She’s the one for me.” He said a little more loudly than before, as if to convince the world of his heterosexual relationship. “But I don’t…if I ever looked at other people, which I wouldn’t, I…I don’t _feel_ any differently about men than I do about women.”

“So that joke that you made about you and Killian awhile back?” Emma asks, hoping that she’s not overstepping her boundaries. “Was that because—“

“Because I’d thought about it? Yeah,” David admits. “You can’t help thinking about it.”

Emma sighs and sips at her cider. It reminds her of the mayor.

“Snow will come around,” David assures her. “You’re right—this isn’t the Enchanted Forest. I’m not sure that everything in this world is an improvement, but I do…I do think that people should be able to love who you love.” He hesitates. “Which is why I’m wondering why you’re bringing it up now. Is there…do you?...”

“Yeah,” Emma responds, her voice small. “It’s Regina.”

“Does she know?”

“No.”

There’s a long, long pause after that. It’s not terribly uncomfortable, but she’s still on the edge of her seat (not literally) for an answer.

“We’ve all been through a lot. Regina’s done a lot of horrible things, but I…after all that’s happened since you came to town, I don’t think that it’s my business—or Snow’s—to stop an opportunity for her to have a happy ending before she even gets her toes wet. I think that you should tell her.”

“And…” He swallows hard. “And if you do it with me, I think that I…I should…I’m going to talk to your mother.” His eyes crinkle in a smile. “She should know where you get it from. I think that’s why we’re both… _bisexual_.” The word sounds awkward and heavy on his tongue, but he rolls with it. “It’s because us ‘Charmings’ are just too damn easy on the eyes. It would be a crime to limit ourselves.”

They both laugh, and this time when Emma starts crying, it’s because she’s overjoyed.

 

**Killian**

 

He wakes up late in the afternoon, in a state that’s half-drunk and half-hungover. His head is fuzzy and it feels like his heartbeat has moved up into his brain. Despite that, his thoughts roll in clear and easy like the water that’s lapping up against his hip.

Years and years ago, he should have realized what he had to do in order to fix things. Taking women to bed and making them love him wasn’t the answer. That wasn’t going to make him better.

No. What he needs to do was get it out of his system.

Weeks ago Emma had explained the concept of a taxi to him. Storybrooke only had one cab driver, a peppy black man named Naveen who loved jazz. He was French of all things. Killian, true to his heritage, has never liked the French.

Still, he knows that his destination is too far to walk in the cold and so he dials the taxi-driver’s number and tells him where to go.

“No problem!” Naveen laughs, and starts to drive. His attempts at small-talk are met with nothing, and so they eventually lapse into silence. “Do you need me to come back later to pick you up?” he asks when they arrive, looking a little wary about how far from town they are.

“No,” Killian says immediately. “Thanks.” He stuffs some money into the other man’s outstretched hand, and watches him drive away. It’s nearly dark now, and that makes Jefferson’s home seem even larger and more intimidating.

The door opens, and Killian reasons that the hatter must have heard the automobile.

Killian’s head is pounding in earnest now, but he doesn’t care.

“Killian?” Jefferson asks, looking the pirate up and down. “You look awful—you—what are you doing here?”

“I…” Killian takes a few steps forward, and _thinks_ about the other man. “Where’s your daughter?”

“Upstairs doing her homework. Why?”

“Because I need to talk to you.” His voice hasn’t faltered yet. That’s a surprise. “Alone.”

“Okay. Are you sure that nothing’s wrong?” Jefferson asks, his nose crinkling as the smell of rum and sweat his him. “I don’t suppose that there’s a shower on that boat of yours?”

“It’s a _ship_ ,” Killian huffs, pushing past Jefferson and all but collapsing in the living room on the largest, plushest sofa in there. “Go tend to your daughter. I’ll be here.”

“Mm.” Jefferson’s eyes narrow briefly, and then he turns to go up the stairs. Five minutes later he’s back, some clothes over his arm. “I won’t talk to you until you’ve bathed. Now get off of my couch. It was rather expensive and the last thing it needs is to smell like a boat.” 

“I’m fine,” Killian grunts. “And it’s a _ship_.”

“You’re clearly not.” Jefferson reaches out and pulls the other man up, leading him back. “There’s a downstairs bathroom. I’m not talking to you until you come out _clean_. If Grace does come downstairs, I will _not_ have her see you like this.”

Killian protests but finds himself alone in the bathroom with a change of clothes moments later. He wants to burst right back out, but hesitates.

This is a good idea, he admits to himself. It’s been a week since he bathed, and Jefferson’s right. There isn’t a shower on his ship. Besides, it’ll be easier to get this done if he doesn’t stink like a cellar.

Before he comes out, he borrows a toothbrush he finds by the sink, and tosses it into the trash once he’s done because it seems like the considerate thing to do.

When he emergences with damp hair, smelling like soap, he feels better…but everything is still terrible.

“Oh look at that. I’d forgotten what you look like under all that grime.” Jefferson pats the couch next to him and leans back. “I don’t think I’ve said more than two words to you since you arrived in Storybrooke.”

His brow furrows.

“Why are you such a mess?“ He’s blunt when it counts. That’s how they’ve always been with one another. “I thought that you were having your happily ever after with Emma.”

“No.” It’s all that Killian can say for a few minutes. “I…I can’t be happy yet.”

“Yet?”

“I’m broken, Jefferson.” Killian can’t cry anymore. His head is pounding and rum has been his only liquid intake for three days. He’s probably dehydrated. “I’m so, so broken.”

Jefferson’s sarcasm and wit vanish as he realizes that his friend is in real trouble, not just drunk with no place to go.

“What’s wrong? What’s happened?” He asks.

“I…nothing’s happened. That’s the problem. Nothing’s ever changed.” Killian can’t hear his own words because his head hurts too much and his heart is beating too loudly. “But _you_ can help me. You can fix me. I know you can.”

“If this is about my hat, I can’t use it anym—“

“No!” Killian cuts him off. “This isn’t about your hat. I need you to help make me normal.”

He doesn’t ask permission or give any warning. He just sits up and leans across the couch, all over Jefferson as he presses into a messy kiss only to be shoved away immediately.

“Killian!” Jefferson hisses, wiping his mouth. “What’s _wrong_ w—“

“I told you! I’m broken!” His voice becomes louder. “I’ve tried so hard not to be—but I see now! I know how to fix it. I just need to get it out of my system and then—“

“Oh, no. Oh, Killian…” Jefferson breathes out, cupping the pirate’s face. “You stupid, stupid pirate.” His voice softens. “You’re not broken.”

“You’re wrong,” Killian croaks.

“No, no, no…” The hatter sighs, smoothing back the pirate’s wet hair. Killian can do nothing but hiccup helplessly, his body unwilling to spend extra moisture on tears.

“I don’t want this.” Killian shudders and collapses against his old friend, letting Jefferson pull him close. “I just want to be normal.”

“You are,” Jefferson says firmly. “You are.” In a somewhat fatherly gesture, he kisses the top of the pirate’s head.

Killian’s too tired to say anything else. He’s been fighting himself for years, and decides that right now he just can’t. Jefferson already knows that he’s a freak of nature. He can’t decide whether or not he’s upset or relieved that the other man didn’t kiss him back.

The hatter has him eat a fried egg, drink as much water as his stomach can handle, and sends him to bed.

Killian doesn’t know how much later it is that he realizes he’s starting to sober up and can’t sleep, but he finds himself on his feet and heading down the hall. After standing in front of Jefferson’s room for a good ten minutes he opens the door, deciding that the worst thing Jefferson can do is send him back.

He doesn’t make it inside, because Jefferson isn’t alone.

The Evil Queen herself is laying beside him, Jefferson’s back pressed to her chest as they slumber. Jefferson’s head is tucked under Regina’s chin, and one of her hands rests loosely on his arm. It looks as if nothing could tear them apart.

Killian makes his way back to the room that he’s been offered for the night.  Exhausted, he laughs himself to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm loving writing this fic and I wanted to take a moment to thank everyone for the support!!! :-) There have been a few whispers about it on tumblr and I've been smiling like an idiot while reading them. Oh and bc it was asked (by my beta, who is awesome) my ouat otps are: MadQueen, SwanQueen, MadHook, and Hook/getting slapped in the face. I do not know EXACTLY which pairings are endgame for this fic, but I am settled on at least one. As always, I welcome questions, concerns, and new queer ouat headcanons!!


	4. Part 4: The Day After (but it’s not what you think)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Did you hear the news?

**Part 4: The Day After (but it’s not what you think)**

 

**Jefferson**

At first, he doesn’t want to move. For the first time in far too long, he’s waking up in someone else’s arms and it feels _fantastic_. It’s something that he’s almost forgotten. He hasn’t slept this well in years. As his eyes open, he focuses on the clock next to his bed, and realizes that it’s in his best interests to wake the mayor.

“Come on, it’s time to get up.” he whispers, moving around in Regina’s embrace and pretending that he can’t get up until she lets him.

“ _No!_ ” she whines, sounding just like the indigent young queen he’d met and fallen for years and years ago. “This is the best night’s sleep I’ve gotten in awhile, and you will _not_ ruin it for me, Jefferson.”

“I might not, but if I recall, the next town meeting is in an hour, and you haven’t even done your hair y—“

The woman behind him rolls out of bed instantly, and Jefferson is laughing as he sits up and stretches.

When the mayor is as ready as she’s going to be, Jefferson hops out of bed in his pajamas, and opens the door for her.

“After you, my lady.” he teases, and they both laugh, murmuring to one another under their breath as they walk down the hall. Briefly, he makes a note to check on Killian once Regina’s on her way home.

The other man’s confession the night before had come as a surprise, but looking back on their encounters in the Enchanted Forest—and Killian’s grossly misogynistic behavior—he had to admit that it made sense. Why it had come on the same day that he’d made up with Regina, the hatter couldn’t explain. In any case, it had been the most emotionally draining—and freeing—experience he’d had in a long, long time.

The biggest surprise (that again, shouldn’t have been much of a shock at all) had been the kiss. Rather, when Killian had attempted to kiss him but missed and apparently forgotten how to do more than slobber all over the person he intended to seduce. It had been wet and disgusting. The poor man had obviously not been sober for days.

Jefferson had pushed him away, of course. What kind of person would he be if he let himself take advantage of someone so confused—and drunk? So very drunk. His paternal side had come out, and instead of lecturing the pirate, he’d cleaned him up and sent him to bed.

He sincerely hopes that the pirate feels better now.

As he gives Regina flirtatious wink and a peck on the cheek before sending her out the door, the pirate is still on his mind. His chest constricts a little bit painfully, because once upon a time, long before the curse, he’d wanted to kiss the pirate very badly.

He’d realized how stupid his feelings were during one of Killian’s last visits to the cottage. They’d been talking all night, and had fallen into silence and settled for watching one another over a candle that was quickly burning out.

It wouldn’t have been hard to lean over and press their lips together.  Killian had been glancing between his lips and his eyes for the better part of an hour, and the way that his thumb was rubbing against the bottle in his hand was nothing short of indecent.

He could have kissed Killian, taken him in a moment of careless hunger, and they might have even spent the night together…but he hadn’t dared.

Even back then, it had been no secret to Jefferson that Killian had no patience for homosexuality. In the case that the pirate had decided to, for one night, give up and take his pleasure in the arms another man, the hatter wouldn’t have accepted his advances. He would have sent the pirate away.

Although it’s certainly plausible that one day a man like Killian could grow to accept his sexuality, Jefferson doesn’t feel comfortable being the man to help.

He can only imagine what Killian would say if he reached down Jefferson’s pants and realized what body the hatter had been born with.

That’s a lie. He doesn’t have to imagine. He _knows_.

Jefferson knows what Killian would say, because he’s heard it before from men and women alike.

It doesn’t matter that the pirate is handsome and sometimes funny, and apparently as gay as Wonderland. A dashing smile isn’t worth risking his personal safety—and comfort—for, especially now that he finally has his family back.

As he thinks about Grace, a smile rises to his face. Jefferson lays a hand on his stomach, and thinks that it was worth being born and raised as a woman, just so that he could bring his daughter into the world.

If that means a few less one-night-stands and no rugged, and unbearably charming pirates whispering sweet nothings into his heart, so be it.

As he decides that he will never kiss Killian Jones (because it simply isn’t worth the risk) he knocks on the guestroom door.

 

**Killian**

 

He wakes up to soft footsteps and muffled laughter as Regina and Jefferson go down the hallway. When Jefferson knocks on his door a few minutes later, Killian grunts to show that he’s awake and sits up as the door opens.

“Good morning.” the hatter offers, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms. “Do you feel better?”

“Yes,” Killian admits. His headache is almost gone, and he’s sober for the first time in days. The only things that he can remember in vivid detail are what Jefferson tasted like before pushing him away, and what Regina looked like curled around him.

“I’m sorry about last night,” the pirate adds, glancing away. His heart hurts more than his head now. “I wasn’t myself.”

“It’s fine.” Jefferson is being gentle and careful, and Killian hates it. “Do you need to talk about it? About what you said about being—“

“No.” Killian says immediately, standing up. He’d worn the clothes that Jefferson had lent him to sleep. Everything smelled like the hatter’s embrace, and he was acutely aware of how much he still wanted the other man. It made him feel sick, but he didn’t want it to stop.

Not that it mattered. If Regina and Jefferson were together, what could he do?

“Are you sure?” Jefferson asks. He’s being far too kind. “I can—“

“No.” the pirate says more firmly. “I’d like to go back to my ship and clean up.” He approaches the door, keeping his head held high. “I’ll probably see you around.”

“Don’t you need a ride to town? It’s a few miles…”

“No. I could use the exercise.” His stomach doesn’t feel quite right, but he’s glad. He doesn’t want an excuse to stay for breakfast.

Jefferson protests and pushes some toast into his hands anyway, making sure that the other man is bundled up and ready to face the cold. Killian doesn’t understand how Jefferson can be so kind after last night, but he doesn’t put up much of a fight. He just wants to get out the door.

“Stay safe.” Jefferson says loudly, hands on Killian’s shoulders as they stand on his porch. “Don’t do anything stupid. Call me if you need me.”

“Sure, sure…” Killian mutters, relief washing over him as Jefferson’s door closes and it hits him that _the other man doesn’t hate him_.

The hatter doesn’t hate him, even after Killian kissed him. He still cares. They’re still friends. There’s a little, secret smile on his face as he starts walking back to town.

A few hours later, he’s sipping a hot cup of coffee in Granny’s. The clothes that Jefferson lent him are carefully stashed away in his ship, and he’s back in his own wardrobe. He doesn’t feel _right_ about the fact that he’s never going to give them back, but he’s never going to give them back. He’s considering what to do next when a disheveled looking Robin Hood walks in.

Misery likes company. Even though Killian’s feeling a little better about himself, he knows that he probably still looks like shit. That’s what he reasons, anyway, as Robin slides into the booth across from him and lets out a heavy sigh. He looks tired.

“She left me.”

Killian snorts and barely contains his laughter, the reaction coming from understanding and irony that he doesn’t want to feel.

“What was that for?” Robin looks up, brow furrowed. It looks like he needs a stiff drink. “Did you know this was going to happen? She only just told me…”

“You could say that.” Killian shrugs and takes a long drink of coffee, wishing that it was still hot enough to burn.

“What do you mean?” Robin asks, and Killian decides to throw him a bone.

“You mean to say that you don’t know where Regina was last night?”

“And you do?” His eyes narrow. Killian realizes that he needs to affirm that _he_ wasn’t the one with Regina as quickly as possible if he wants to keep all of his teeth—and he does. The pirate needs his pretty face.

“I do.” Killian leans forward and smirks, happy to have an opportunity to wrack someone else’s nerves. “The question, mate, is do _you_ want to know?”

There’s silence after that, for a few moments.

“Yes.” Robin eventually says.

“She was with Jefferson.” Killian explains, letting the words hang in the air.

Robin doesn’t question him, just leans back and lets out a long sigh.

“She told me she was going there. I didn’t think…”

“Neither did I, if it’s any consolation,” Killian says bitterly, forgetting to watch his words. “I wouldn’t have gone to see him if I’d known—“

Robin picks up on the subtext surprisingly fast, and they both still. Killian realizes that the other man understands why he’d gone to see the hatter, and his heart starts to race. The more that he tries to ignore his feelings for the hatter, the more people he seems to tell about it.

“It seems we’ve got more in common than I thought.” Robin laughs and slouches back in his seat. “You know, I’ve got an idea…” he adds thoughtfully. “We could both use a drink, and I’ve never seen that ship of yours.”

 

**Aurora**

 

Singing softly, she zips up the dress with gentle, loving hands. It’s light blue, cut to fall just above the knees. The neckline doesn’t plunge. It’s modest and tasteful, and accented with delicate ivory embroidery.

She picked it out the week before, aiming to impress her husband.

The lipstick that she chooses is only a few shades darker than her lips. It didn’t take her long to become accustomed to the cosmetics of Storybrooke, and she’s already amassed an impressive collection of tools. She likes to think that she’s become fairly good at using them.

Once she’s finished, the result is beautiful. The dress fits Phillip perfectly, just like she knew it would. The makeup she’s applied is subtle, but it softens his face and makes him look much more feminine. The smile on her husband’s face is as bright of the sun, and she can’t help but let out a little giggle as she rubs their noses together and runs her fingers through soft, dark hair.

“You look very pretty,” she says sincerely, loving the way that he glows with happiness as the compliment sinks in.

This had been harder to do back in the Enchanted Forest, when they were royalty and then running for their lives. Here, they don’t have servants and it’s easier to have privacy. It isn’t often that Phillip asked for this, but on those rare occasions, she is always happy to indulge.

Aurora has always liked clothes and hair and other forms of vanity—but never in her wildest dreams had she thought that would be something she could share with her husband. The first time that he had, tentatively, asked her how to put on rouge, she hadn’t questioned it.

She’d been too happy.

As their relationship progressed, he admitted to her that although he was happy to be a prince and excited to be a king, he’d often wished to be a princess instead as a child. The urge came and went, he said.

Aurora doesn’t mind if sometimes Phillip wants to be a prince and sometimes he wants to be a princess. She’ll never stop loving him. He’ll always be her best friend.

That, perhaps, should be even stranger. Aurora loves fiercely and truly, but she doesn’t’ think that she’s ever been _in_ love the same way that Snow White has with her Prince Charming. Phillip is the best friend she’s ever had, and she would protect him with her life, but it’s not a _romantic_ love.

That doesn’t change that there’s no one she’d rather spend the rest of her life with, and it helps she’s never been more attracted to a person than she is to Phillip.

Well…that’s not _exactly_ true.

As she watches Phillip admire himself in his new dress, she thinks about Mulan. The warrior is the only other person she’s even _started_ caring about like she cares about her husband.

In a quiet moment she’d asked Phillip what he thought of Mulan, and had been pleased when he’d lit up and told her that he liked her very much, and would love to have her stay with them in the castle.

When Mulan left, Aurora had been crushed. She doesn’t know whether or not the other woman is in Storybrooke. She’s looked, but she hasn’t asked. Turning into flying monkeys, turning back, and having a baby had been a little distracting.

Their child, named after his father, is in the next room sleeping. Aurora hopes that he won’t wake up just yet.

Aurora is startled out of her thoughts as Phillip climbs on top of her and moves her hands so that they’re resting on his hips.

“Are you thinking about her?” He asks, looking down at her and raising an eyebrow. She takes a moment to admire his eyeliner. He’s actually done it himself this time—he’s getting better.

“Yes,” Aurora admits, leaning up and starting to kiss her husband’s neck. “I miss her.”

“I know. Me, too.” Phillip murmurs, running his fingers down Aurora’s back. “If you wanted to, we could probably find her.”

“I know.”

 

**Mulan**

 

Weeks have gone by—maybe months—and she’s still in love. It’s nothing less than frustrating. She’d thought that becoming one the “Merry Men” (it should be Merry _People)_ would get her away from Aurora, but instead she’s in Storybrooke, brought over with the rest of Robin’s band.

She’s seen Aurora in town with Phillip and their child, but hasn’t been able to work up the courage to face the princess just yet. As long as she’s safe—and not a monkey—Mulan is happy.

Happy enough, anyway.

Storybrooke isn’t all bad.

Even in the Enchanted Forest, Robin and his crew never treated her differently for being a woman. That hasn’t changed, and for the first time in years she has more friends than she knows what to do with. It’s a lot like being in the army again, and she realizes how much she’s missed it.

New friends are wonderful, she’s decided.

However, old friends are nothing to sneeze at.

When she’d seen Belle for the first time, the other woman hadn’t hesitated in running down the street to embrace her. Mulan, a little overwhelmed by the gesture, had returned the hug and failed to suppress a smile.

They agreed to meet a few days later when they both had more time. That’s where she is now—having breakfast.

“I still can’t believe you’re here!” Belle exclaims, gripping her hands over the table. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again!”

“I thought the same.” Mulan affirms, giving the brunette’s hands a squeeze. “A lot has happened since we parted ways.” She pauses, trying to remember something that she’s heard about the other woman. “You got married. Is that correct?”

“Yes.” Belle’s smile falters. “Although…it’s not going quite as well as I…”

“I’m sorry if I overstepped my boundaries,” Mulan says quickly, color rising to her face. “I didn’t mean to—“

“It’s fine,” Belle says immediately. “It’s not a secret.” She hesitates. “He lied to me. Again.” The last word comes out more quietly. “I thought he changed…now we’re on a break, I guess.”

“Does he make you happy?” Mulan asks, because it’s the only question she can think to ask.

“We love each other,” Belle answers immediately. “I’m the only one who’s able to bring that out—the good—in him. What we have is special.”

“Does he make you happy?” she asks again, this time more quietly.

Belle’s smile falters, but she doesn’t let go of Mulan’s hands as a tear escapes and rolls down her cheek.

After Granny’s, as they continue to catch up, Belle manages to convince Mulan to admit that she has feelings for someone. They’re walking along the beach, bundled up in winter coats. Belle has her by the arm, and up until now they were talking about nothing in particular.

“Does she make you happy?” Belle asks, genuine as always.

“I think she could have,” Mulan says as indifferently as she can, as her jaw sets and she forces back the heartbreak that she still refuses to confront.

 

**Killian**

As Robin sits up on the edge of the cot and reaches down to sort his clothes from Killian’s, he glances back at the pirate, who is still laying down.

“So?” He asks, evidently having noticed that Killian hasn’t said more than a word or two since finishing up. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah…” Killian says rather dismissively, staring up at the ceiling of his cabin with his brow furrowed and arms crossed behind his head. He hadn’t thought it would be like this.

Something bad should have happened—he should have at the very _least_ been sick afterwards. He doesn’t even feel good about it. There’s no righteous rush of sin, no delight in having committed an act that’s downright indecent even by his standards.

Instead, he doesn’t really feel anything.

“Are you sure?” Robin asks. When he places a hand on Killian’s bare thigh, the pirate doesn’t flinch. “I know you said that you’ve never been with another man before and—“

“I’m fine.” Killian sits up but doesn’t bother pulling the blanket up. Robin’s already seen it all, anyway. It feels strange not to be lying. He really _is_ fine.

He’d been fine with Robin cupped his face and said that even though he’s only ever loved women, sometimes there was nothing wrong with finding a merry man to pass the time with.

He’d been fine when Robin’s lips had been on his throat, his hands grappling with his belt.

He’d been fine when he reached down himself, pulling the other man flush against him and realizing just how unsatisfying all of his encounters with the so-called fairer sex had been.

It had been surprisingly natural, and _okay_ and now he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to think.

“Then why have you got such a frown on that handsome face?” Robin teases, finding Killian’s gaze, his eyes crinkling in a sincere smile. Hook glances down at the other man’s lips, and before he can quite stop himself, they’re kissing again.

When Robin leaves for good an hour or so later, it’s amicably. Killian finds that he can’t bring himself to resent their encounter. Robin’s too kind, and it felt too good.

“Would you, er—be interested in doing this again?” he asks, lacing up his boots and cocking an eyebrow.

“No.” Killian says after a short pause, because the last thing he needs is to accidentally develop feelings for a man who has admitted he can only love women. “Sorry.”

“No worries, mate. See you around.” One more kiss, and then he’s gone.

Once he knows that he’s alone, Killian lets out a heavy sigh. He leans back and tries to bring forth arousal at the memory of Robin’s touch. Instead, he—rather guiltily—pulls out Jefferson’s sweater from under his bed, and curls around it has he tries to fall asleep.

 

**Ruby**

 

As her best friend and her best friend’s new-old friend walk through the door, she laughs at the state that they’re in.

“Get caught in the cold?” she asks, watching as Belle and Mulan shake the quickly melting snow from their coats. “I didn’t think it was supposed to snow today.”

“Neither did we!” Belle admits, folding her coat over her arm, face flushed from the cold. “Winter’s crazy this year!”

Ruby hums in agreement and brings them both hot tea as the two women sit down at the bar. As soon as they seem comfortable and on their way to thawing, she leans in and lets her voice drop down to a whisper.

“Did you hear?”

“Hear what?” Belle asks, taking a sip of her tea and shivering in pleasure. The snowflakes on her hair have melted by now, leaving her looking like she’s just come in from rain instead of snow. “Are you gossiping again, Ruby?”

“Maybe a little bit.” the werewolf admits, and Mulan frowns.

“I don’t know if it’s right to spread rumors…” she says slowly.

“Oh, this isn’t a rumor. It’s true. At least—I think it is. I heard it from a reputable source.” She knows that this isn’t her most attractive habit, but she can’t help but share something this titillating when she has it.

“So what is it?” Belle asks, trying to look as moral as the woman seating next to her, but failing miserably. “It’s not going to hurt anybody, is it?”

“I…” Ruby pauses, realizing that there’s a certain blonde who might not want to hear that Regina’s hooking up with the Mad Hatter. “Just promise not to tell anyone, and we’ll be fine.”

“I promise.” Belle says immediately. Mulan just nods, looking curious. It’s cute.

“Regina and Jefferson are sleeping together.” Ruby whispers, leaning over the counter so that they won’t be overheard. “Killian told Robin about it this morning, and I overheard.”

“Regina and _Jefferson_?” Belle says a little too loudly.

The timing is nothing short of ironic, because Emma Swan has just walked into Granny’s after her shift at the station. Ruby, however, doesn’t even have time to notice.

Those three words are all that Emma needs to hear before she’s gone again.

 

**Robin**

 

Honestly, he isn’t sure what’s come over him. Losing Regina was a hard blow. It still hurts, and he still loves her…so why had he taken that pirate to bed?

It doesn’t really matter, he decides. A few minutes of eyebrow raising and careful questions was all it had taken to get Killian to admit his feelings for Jefferson. After that, it hadn’t been all that long before they were locking themselves in the cabin’s quarters of the Jolly Roger.

He’d never tell the pirate, but it had been obvious that Killian had no idea how to go about kissing, let alone touching, another man. Robin had been happy to help.

Life as a thief who gave from the rich and gave to the poor, though rewarding, had often been rather lonely. Marian hadn’t always been there, but his merry men had. Occasionally finding solace with another man, even if it was only physical, wasn’t all that uncommon or uncomfortable for him.

He’d never understood Snow White’s father’s strange fixation with making sure that women only loved men and vice versa, but he’d been wanted for so many other things that one more crime hadn’t really mattered. When Regina became the sole leader of the kingdom, nothing really changed.

Speaking of Marian, now that Regina has rejected him for her ex-lover, perhaps it’s time that he goes back to his wife to try and find common ground. They haven’t had time to _really_ sort things out. He doesn’t expect them to rekindle their love, at least not right away, but he owes it to their son to at least try.

As he walks down the street past Granny’s, he sees Emma Swan sitting in her car and looking down at the steering wheel. It looks like she’s been crying. He considers going over and making sure that she’s okay.

Then, he realizes that they don’t know one another all that well, and it’s not really his place. If she wants to be alone—needs to be alone—that’s fine. Snow White will surely come and comfort her daughter soon enough. Shrugging, he continues on his way and wonders what he should make Roland for dinner.

 

**Emma**

 

Of all people, she’d never thought that Jefferson would be the one she had to worry about. From what Jefferson had told her, it didn’t seem like they were anywhere near being _friends_ again. How could they become lovers?

Then again, Emma realizes, it doesn’t take friendship to have sex with someone. Maybe Regina decided to confront Jefferson about their past, and found out that the spark was still there. Maybe Jefferson called Regina in tears, and admitted that he still loved her and always would. Maybe—

Fuck. Her imagination’s running wild, and she can’t calm down.

More than that, hadn’t Jefferson s _aid_ that he didn’t love her anymore? Explicitly? Out loud? That they were different people now? Why would he lie? Emma supposes that he hadn’t owed her the truth.

Hell, he doesn’t owe her anything. Neither does Regina.

But why would he say that? Why would he look her in the eyes, with fucking _sincerity_ , and tell her that he didn’t loveher?

Emma swallows bitter tears and realizes, with irony, that she can’t blame Jefferson for something that she herself is guilty of. She’s told herself that same lie time and time again.

No, she doesn’t love Regina.

A hand flies to her mouth as she tries to pull herself together.

But she _does_.

Choking on a sob, she curls up on herself as best she can in the driver’s seat of the bug and hates herself for learning to love again.

 

**Regina**

 

“You left your reading glasses on my nightstand.”

“I can come over tomorrow and return them.”

“I have a better idea. I invite myself—and Grace—to dinner and you feed me so I’m not, as you said, ‘malnourished and aged’.”

“I suppose.” Regina forces herself to keep laughter from her voice.

Jefferson’s not even teasing her, he’s just being helpful, and a _friend_. The word sits strangely on Regina’s conscience, but after last night that’s what they’ve decided to be for now.

It had perhaps been inappropriate to fall asleep with him, but they’d spent most of the night giggling like children in his bed as they reminisced about a time when they’d been blissfully young and foolish.

Regina doesn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea. She’d rather not, for example, have anyone announce to the town that she’d spent the night with her ex-lover in her arms, but who on earth was going to tell?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always to sheepyshavings, my hella great beta. A+++++ to them--go check out their work, because like holy shittttt. I've also tried to include all of the things people asked to see that I can realistically include in what I've got planned. :-) and may I introduce AROra. Like Aurora. But AROra. oh and heads up i think that belle is way too good for gold. ALSO I will update info on Aurora/Phillip's baby's name/gender once we get it in the new episode!


	5. Part 5: Operation Scorpion

_**Part 5: Operation Scorpion** _

 

**Regina**

A week after reconciling with Jefferson, Regina realizes that she hasn’t heard from Emma at all lately. She knows that their last confrontation wasn’t exactly friendly, and she’s starting to feel guilty about it.

As she stands in front of the sink after dinner, washing dishes, she realizes with mild horror that she’s going soft.

It has something to do with the fact that Jefferson is standing next to her, putting away the dishes as they talk about nothing at all. Since Kathryn decided that she’d rather have true love that be involved in the town, Regina hasn’t really had any _friends_.

She’d thought maybe Emma would fill that void, but, well…as she thinks of the savior, swallows hard and tries to ignore the fact that she’s a little _too_ worried. Before Emma tried to confront her (it _was_ inappropriate, there’s no denying that) the blonde had been hard to get rid of.

Now, she’s finding that she misses having the savior in her life. Regina wonders where on earth she could be hiding. According to Henry, Emma still picks him up from school on the days that she’s supposed to, and everything _seems_ fine.

So why hasn’t Regina seen her?

“Regina?”

“Hm?” Snapping to attention, she turns to the man beside her. “What was that, dear?”

“I asked you if you’d like to come to dinner next week,” he says, raising an eyebrow. “Grace is apparently thrilled that I’m on speaking terms with the parent of one of her friends, and would like to arrange more play-dates to make sure that I continue to socialize with children my own age.”

Regina can’t help but laugh at that. It feels good.

“Well, if Grace insists, I don’t think I can say no…” Regina pauses, and takes in Jefferson’s gentle smile and the arc of his eyebrows. “She looks like you, you know.”

The hatter looks like he’s about to burst with pride.

Regina can barely remember what Grace’s father had looked like. After all, he’d only been in Jefferson’s life for a matter of hours. He’d never really mattered. Before her thoughts can continue, Regina stops herself. _Jefferson_ is Grace’s father. Alice was her mother.

The man that Jefferson slept with has no bearing on who Grace’s real parents are. Just like Henry. When she and Jefferson fell asleep together, Jefferson had stroked her hair and assured her that she was Henry’s real mother. She always had been. She always will be.

“Speaking of parents, have you seen Emma lately?” Jefferson asks, sounding like he’s forcing himself to sound casual. “I…had a…she checked in on me the other day. I wanted to thank her. What she said was very helpful.”

“Emma visited you?” Regina asks, idly ringing her hands and starting to drain the sink. “What did you two talk about?”

“Well…” Jefferson hesitates. “I may have told her about Alice.”

Regina’s shoulders tense, and she turns to her ex-lover with a dishrag raised in one hand like a weapon.

“Excuse me?” she asks. “What did you tell her?”

“Not everything.” Jefferson says quickly, taking a small step back. “Just…that we all…I wasn’t in a good place and it was easy to tell her th—“

“You told her that I was in love with her, too?” Regina asks, cheeks flushed in anger. “Jefferson, you had no right to say that!” She hisses. “When was this?”

“I don’t know—a week ago?” Jefferson looks down at his feet. It’s obvious that he understands what he’s done wrong. At least there’s that. “She wanted to see how I was doing, and she started asking questions…”

“And you told her that I loved Alice?”

“Well, yes—but she made that connection herself, first.” he admits. “She hadn’t known about the _three_ of us. She assumed that you loved Alice—and I loved Alice—and we fought over her. What was I supposed to do? Say that’s the way it happened? I’m not going to lie about who I loved, Reg—“

“Fine. It’s fine.” Regina lets out a long sigh, because certainly this isn’t worth fighting over. It sounded like Emma had gone to Jefferson only after her confrontation with Regina. Whoever had told Emma the (true) rumors about Regina’s sexuality, it hadn’t been Jefferson. He’d just confirmed them.

If it had been anyone else she would have destroyed them.

“What…what did she say? I mean…” Regina takes a moment to compose herself. “How did she take that? I imagine it must have come as quite a shock to learn about the true nature of our relationship with Alice.”

“She’s not like her mother.” Jefferson says immediately. “She…she doesn’t care about gender, you know. Like us.” He shrugs a little.

“We’re not the same, Jefferson.” Regina reminds him. “Not exactly.”

“I know.” He briefly squeezes her elbow. “It’s getting late. I should take Grace home so that she can do her homework. I know that they’re supposed to be studying, but they’re probably playing video games.”

Regina hums in agreement, and that’s that.

 

**David**

 

Thinking about his daughter fills David with pride and happiness. Even though he’s only been in her life for a little while, he couldn’t be prouder of the woman she’s grown up to be. A strong, wonderful warrior who wasn’t afraid to be herself.

That’s something that he’s learned from her.

Briefly, he thinks about the boy he’d almost-loved before meeting Snow. He hopes that everything turned out alright for him.

Today, however, what matters is himself. He’s sitting in the living room waiting for Emma. Snow is at the counter, working far too hard to frost Christmas cookies.

It’s only a week until the holiday, they realized that morning. Presents had been bought weeks before, stored away carefully where Henry and Emma (both of them had been snooping around) couldn't find them.

All that that has fallen by the wayside now that Snow White has been, multiple times a day, denying their daughter’s sexuality. It’s been a rough ride for Charming, who hasn’t quite been able to come out to his wife. He can’t find blame in himself for that.

“I was thinking about inviting Killian to Christmas dinner.” Snow remarks as she, unnecessarily aggressively, frosts the antlers on a reindeer. “To see if he and Emma can patch things up.”

“They broke up because they don’t love each other, Snow.” Charming comments from the couch, taking a long sip from the beer in his hand. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“But he’s _perfect_ for her!” Snow insists, nearly breaking off Santa’s head as she continues to apply icing.

“How?” David asks, finding himself growing quickly weary with his wife. He loves so much about her—pretty much everything—but her homophobia is wearing him down.

“He’s…he’s….” His wife pauses, and clears her throat. “Well, _he’s_ —“

“He’s a man?”

“Yes! No—“

Charming squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, and fails to will away the occasions on which he’s found himself attracted to the pirate. He’d never act on them, of course. He loves his wife dearly, but you can’t help looking.

“Things aren’t the same here, Snow. It’s like Emma said.” David wishes that he could help her understand.

“But they _could_ be!” Snow insists. “Emma’s the only deviant one—and as soon as she finds a nice man, she’ll forget all about—“

“Our daughter is _not_ deviant!” That makes David stand up. So far, he’s held back his anger, because he doesn’t want Snow to know how he feels about other men. Now, he can’t quite keep his temper. “She’s perfect the way she is. I personally don’t give a damn who she ends up with, man or woman, as long as they’ve got a good heart.”

“ _David_ , what’s gotten into you? You’re not making sense! Emma isn’t like _that_. She’s like _us_!”

Neal starts crying, and David stands up to go to him. Before walking over to the crib, he pauses and meets his wife’s gaze.

“No.”

“What do you mean no?” Snow’s whisper is furious as she follows David.

“You’re wrong.” David murmurs back, bouncing Neal up and down and smiling at his son, trying to calm him down so that he’ll go back to sleep. “Emma loves who she loves. Men and women, and that’s fine. She’s not like you, and that’s fine.”

“Not like _us_! I don’t know where she got it from, where we went wrong…it must be something from growing up in this world that made her think—” Snow insists.

Neal’s still crying, and David doesn’t blame him.

“No.” he says again, struggling to articulate what he wants— _needs_ —to say. “I’ve never told you this, and I never wanted to—but if Emma’s sexuality has anything to do with where she came from, she got it from me, Mary Margaret. If you’re shaming our daughter for who she loves, then you’re shaming me, too.”

The deafening silence that follows is broken by the sound of the front door opening.

 

**Emma**

“Is this…a bad time?”

Her parents look like they’re ready to slap each other, which is strange. They rarely fight. Emma’s immediately on edge as she closes the door behind her. She’d tried knocking, but when there hadn’t been an answer she’d just let herself in.

Was that a mistake?

“I…” Snow looks helplessly between her daughter and her husband. “Emma, _please_ tell your father that he’s not a homosexual!”

“You’re not a homosexual.”

“I’m not a homosexual!”

They speak nearly in unison. Emma realizes why they’re fighting. David looks ready to give up.

“Sit down, Mary Margaret.” Emma feels tired even though she’s well-rested. Her mother hesitates, and then makes her way over to the couch. Emma briefly walks over to the counter, sees the Christmas cookies, and winces.

David makes sure that Neal’s stopped fussing before joining his wife, sitting in a chair instead of next to her. Emma sits herself down on the opposite end of the couch, and looks between her parents.

“You’re right, Mary Margaret. David’s not gay, he’s bi. Like me.” She adds the last two words with force.

“But he can’t be. He married me—and he’s never been with a man, so how would he know?” Snow asks, sounding like she’s certain she’s made a good point. “Maybe he accidently thought about it, but that doesn’t make it true. He’s never—“

“I have.” David says, meeting his wife’s gaze. He’s being very brave, and in that moment Emma couldn’t be prouder of her father. “I have been with another man.”

“But—“

“I never told you, I know. How could I?” David’s brow furrows. “I knew you’d react like this.”

“ _Who_?” Snow breaths out, gripping the couch’s armrest like a lifeline.

“His name was Jack. When I told you about him, I called him Jill. That was his sister’s name.” David explains, clearing his throat a little. “I should have been honest, but—“

“I’m glad you lied.” Snow White clasps her hands over her mouth as soon as the words are out of her mouth, face red, looing almost ashamed. “I mean…” She keeps her lips covered. “I don’t…I didn’t…”

“I know.” David sighs. “And I’m sorry if this…I mean.” He’s clearly struggling with what he wants to say, but Emma can’t blame him. “I hated myself for lying about it. I hated myself for having to hide how much I cared about him while we were together.”

“I know you loved your father,” he continues. “but Leopold was wrong about this. I know that love has always been important to you—why deny it for so many people?”

“But my father—“

“I think that your dad was probably a great father.” Emma cuts in. “I mean, you loved him very much, that’s obvious…but if you can’t accept that there’s nothing wrong with who I am, and who David is, then you’re going to lose me. You’ll probably lose him eventually, too, not matter how true your love is.”

Snow lets out a pathetic little hiccup, tears in her eyes. It says a lot that David doesn’t rush to comfort her.

“You’re such a wonderful woman, Snow.” David says gently, because it turns out that even if he’s not getting up, his wife’s discomfort is affecting him all the same. “So why not let go of the hate—or whatever it is—that you have for this? It’s not who you are. If I believed that it was, I wouldn’t be here right now. I wouldn’t have married you.”

“But it was what the people wanted. It was what was good for…” Snow’s voice just sort of trails off.

“It wasn’t. People were scared, and punished just for being in love.” Emma says. “I wasn’t there, I know—but I’ve talked to enough people. Ruby’s best friend is probably dead, just because people couldn’t handle the idea of love between two women.”

“But I was Ruby’s best friend in the Enchanted Forest.” Snow points out.

“Yeah, after Rose—that was her name, I think—got driven out of town for being gay.” Emma can’t not be blunt about this. “David’s hidden his first love from you for years. I’ve dated like six girls and, honestly, I’m getting pretty sick of men. I’ve been talking to a lot of people and, frankly, you have no idea just how queer this town is.”

She clears her throat, because this is incredibly uncomfortable and she never really wanted to have this conversation.

“You’re hurting your friends and your family by not accepting us. And it sucks.” Emma isn’t sure how to keep going, but she tries her best. “So can you just…not? Can you just man up and learn that there’s nothing wrong with any of this?”

Snow’s voice is small, but she responds.

“Okay.” She looks unsure, and she’s crying, but at least she’s not yelling or denying anyone’s sexuality anymore.

An enormous, dopey grin breaks out over David’s face and he rushes into his wife’s arms, embracing her and kissing her hair.

“Thank you, Snow.”

“Ew, gross—don’t do that in front of me.” Emma’s nose crinkles and she gives her parents a half-hearted shove. David responds by pulling his daughter close as well.

 

**Ruby**

 

“Oh, she’s getting so big!” Ruby gushes, bouncing little Phil up and down as his parents get seated. “How are things going?”

“Fine. She’s a wonderful baby—barely cries! Can you believe it?” Aurora smiles and watches the waitress fuss over her son. “I think it’s because of his dad—he’s so good at calming him down!”

“Speaking of your prince, where is he? I don’t think I’ve seen you two apart from one another since you—well—since the spell was broken.” Ruby wonders what it was like to be a monkey. It can’t have been very good. She’s perfectly fine being a wolf instead.

“Oh, he’s spending the day with Eric, I think. We forgot to spend time with friends for awhile after the baby was born.” Aurora explains.

“That makes sense.” Ruby gives a little nod and sets down Phil in the car seat that Aurora has set down next to her in the booth. “Is that why you’re out today? Girl time?”

“Mmhm.” Aurora confirms. “I’m having lunch with Snow. She should be here soon.” Pausing, the princess glances away from Ruby at the clock. “Actually, she should be here already.”

“Don’t sweat it. She probably ran into an ogre or something on the way here. Or a snowstorm. Take your pick.” Ruby laughs, sitting lightly on the edge of the table and raising an eyebrow. “So how are you enjoying Maine? It’s different, right?”

“It’s definitely a change.” Aurora nods. “Actually, though—I’m looking for someone.”

“And you haven’t found them yet? In this town?” Ruby knows how hard it can be to avoid someone in Storybrooke.

“No. I haven’t had time to look.” Aurora explains. “The baby—“

“Right, right.” Ruby smiles in understanding. “So who is it? I see just about everyone in this town. I can probably help.”

“Her name is Mulan.”

Ruby’s eyes light up. Of course! She remembers Emma talking about how the princess and the warrior had helped her in the Enchanted Forest.

“Oh! Yes! She’s here.”

“She is?” Aurora’s eyes widen. “But I haven’t seen her!”

“She’s probably been busy. She came over with Robin and his gang—they’ve been helping to rebuild after everything that’s happened.” Ruby doesn’t like how hurt Aurora looks, but she understands.

“Well…if you do see her, could you tell her that I’d like to talk to her?” Aurora asks, absent-mindedly adjusting her son's tiny mittens. “I miss her.”

“No problem.” Ruby promises A tinkling bell signals new customers, and she turns to see Snow and Emma push through the doors. Emma looks like she’s been through the wringer. Snow’s eyes are a little red, but she looks for the most part as cheerful and bright as always.

 Snow, Neal safe and warm on her hip, lights up at the sight of Aurora and immediately goes over to her friend, sliding in across from her so that they can exchange babies and fuss over them accordingly.

Emma makes a beeline for Ruby, and lets out an exasperated sigh, immediately letting her forehead rest on the werewolf’s shoulder.

“Jesus Christ, Ruby. This week.”

It occurs to Ruby that she hasn’t seen the sheriff since before hearing from Killian that Regina and Jefferson are sleeping together. She wonders whether or not Emma knows. 

“Want to talk about it? Aurora and your mom are the only ones braving the cold today. We could probably sneak into the back for a little while.”

“I’d like that.” Emma confirms, and as soon as Ruby’s taken care of Snow and Aurora’s orders the waitress takes her friend into a back room where they won’t be overheard, but she’ll still be able to hear whether or not more customers come in.

She doubts that there’s going to be much more business today. It’s not snowing, but it’s damn cold and she’s glad that she lives where she works.

“So what’s up?” Ruby asks, watching Emma unbundle herself from a series of sweaters, each one more ugly than the next.

“I spent the morning helping David have an intervention with Snow about her homophobia. It was _rough_.”

“Shit.” Ruby frowns, her attention focused on the blonde in front of her. “Did it end alright? I mean, you came into the diner together and Snow looks happy enough, so…”

“Yes.” Emma admits. “I mean…she agreed to start trying, and she promised not to question my sexuality again.” She bites her lip and glances down at her shoes. “It’s just...I think it’s stupid that I’m the one who has to compromise, you know? I’m the one who has to deal with any slip-ups or terrible things that she accidently says. I don’t think that’s fair.”

“Neither do I, if it’s any consolation.” Ruby offers, trying to make Emma feel better. Now that she’s looking at the Savior more carefully, she sees that Emma looks worn down. That’s not unusual considering the things that happen in Storybrooke, but the waitress finds herself worrying about Regina and Jefferson and whether or not Emma’s heard the news. 

“Thanks.” Emma smiles a little, and Ruby wonders whether or not the Savior’s feelings for Regina are going to end in tears of joy or sorrow.

 

**Mulan**

 

Belle is crying.

Outbursts of emotion like this aren’t Mulan’s strong suit, but she’s trying her best.

They’re in the small, but impeccably clean and organized, apartment that the warrior is renting. As well as helping Robin Hood and his men fix up the town after the Snow Queen, she’s been hired at the stables to help take care of the horses. The man who used to do it threw his hands up in the air and retired when, apparently, a zombie had stormed through.

Mulan hadn’t given it much thought before taking the job. The work was sometimes hard and often cold because of the weather, but she loved horses and was earning enough to take care of herself.

“I just wish he would trust me.” Belle hiccups, and it hurts Mulan to see such a strong woman brought down by a man. “But he keeps lying. He lied about giving me the dagger. I can’t _believe_ he lied about that.”

“He’s a fool.” Mulan can’t stay quiet or lie about that.

“Everyone treats me like I’m—I’m weak. Delicate. Just because I’m pretty and I like books instead of fighting doesn’t m—“

“I know that.” Mulan grips her hand, and looks earnestly into the other woman’s eyes. “You’re incredibly intelligent, and that kind of strength is worth just as much as the power I use to wield my sword, if not more. If everyone had a mind like yours, there wouldn’t be a need for warriors like me, because there would be no war.”

Belle smiles, and relief rushes over Mulan.

“Thank you.” she whispers, and then hesitates. “Can I ask you something, Mulan?”

Mulan jerks her head in a small nod, and knows that she would protect this woman with her life.

“Do you think I should be with him?”

All that Mulan wants to do is scream that _No, no you shouldn’t be with him! No one deserves such a manipulative, evil, unchanging man!_ but instead she draws a deep breath, and doesn’t let her emotions get in the way of what she has to say.

“In order for any relationship to be healthy, all partners have to trust, love, and respect one another. There shouldn’t be a pattern of trust being built up and broken. That’s not good.” She pauses. “Why do you stay with him?”

“I bring out the good in him.” It’s the same thing that the librarian always says. Mulan wonders if Belle thinks if she says it enough, it will be come true. 

“Are you _sure_?” Mulan whispers, and Belle clenches her jaw.

 

**Henry**

 

Everyone seems to think that he’s still too young to notice, but he’s not.

He’s a teenager now, even if just barely, and he’s not stupid. He can see when two people are in love, or at least when they want to be. Honestly, he’s not exempt from that himself—he’s had a few killer crushes in his life, the most unreasonable being on Ruby (she was just so _pretty_ ) and the most realistic being on Paige. Grace, now.

It wasn’t easy re-learning all of his friends’ names after the curse broke, but he’s working on it.

Lately, he hasn’t had time for that. Instead he’s been almost entirely focused on trying to get to the bottom of why the hell his mothers are so emotionally constipated, especially when it comes to one another.

He knows what love looks like. He’s seen it in his grandparents, and the other true lovers who mill around Storybrooke. His mother has been with Robin for some time, but he hasn’t seen love there. All that he sees is a woman desperate for a happy ending that the bandit probably can’t give her.

The breakup wasn’t a surprise.

Captain Hook was cool—he was a pirate, after all—but whenever Emma kissed him or touched him it looked forced. They stop seeing each other, and he’s not surprised. He just hopes that Killian will still take him sailing.

Lately, Emma has been coming over for dinner, and she’s made Regina smile like she’s seeing the sun for the first time after a year in the dark. There aren’t really any resources on same-sex couples in Storybrooke, but he’s watched enough television and done enough thinking to know that Emma and Regina are probably in love with each other, and it’s a miracle that they haven’t realized it by now.

They do have a son together after all, he thinks to himself with a snort and a smile.

He’s not sure why Emma has stopped coming to dinner. Probably another silly fight.

Like he’s done before with problems in the town, he decides to take it upon himself to help his parents see that they belong together. He decides to call it Operation Scorpion, because it’s the coolest animal he can think of that he hasn’t used in a codename yet.

Lately, Jefferson and Grace have been coming over for dinner instead of Emma.

At first he was suspicious, and thought that maybe the hatter and his mom had started dating. He asks Regina about it and she assures him that they’re just old friends who have finally decided to start over. That makes him happy, because it’s more proof that she really is changing. His mom has always had a hard time making friends, and he’s never seen her as comfortable and relaxed as she is around Jefferson.

He wonders what their story is. All that he knows is what he’s read in the book, if that was all that there was to them, there’s no way that they’d be friends. The best part is that because Jefferson isn’t dating either of his moms, he’s not trying to be Henry’s dad.

His moms’ boyfriends do that sometimes, and he hates it. He wishes with all of his heart that Neal was still around, but he doesn’t _need_ a dad. His moms are more than enough. Besides, he has his grandparents.

Jefferson knows how to be a parent, but he’s not trying to be Henry’s. Although, he did step in when he found Henry spraying himself with axe body spray. The look of disapproval on his face rivaled Regina’s. He wondered who learned how to make it first. Maybe it’s just a parent thing. Grace loves her dad, too. That’s a good sign.

After a lot of thought, he decides that Jefferson is just the man for the job he has in mind. 

When Jefferson is showing Henry how to dab just a _little_ bit of cologne (not axe, never axe, dear god Henry do you _want_ to repel women?) on his neck and his wrists, Henry finally pops the question.

“Hey Jefferson, do you think that my moms love each other?”

The hatter pauses and cocks an eyebrow, but doesn’t look surprised.

“You’re bright. You get that from Regina.” He remarks. “Don’t tell Regina I said so, but yes, I do believe so. Their problem is that they’re both so incredibly stubborn. Especially Regina. We’ve known each other since we were quite young, you know. The stories I could tell you.”

“I wish that your mother could let herself be happy. I think that she’s trying harder than she has in a long time, but she—as I’m sure you know—has valid reasons for being slow to trust, and to love.” 

A devious grin slowly spread across Henry’s face. He’s convinced that Jefferson is the right person to help him with Operation Scorpion. Jefferson has everything that he needs to get his moms together: a desire for Regina’s happiness, credit cards, and a car.

 


	6. Twas the Week Before Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the week leading up to t Christmas, there's a lot of stress to go around.

Trigger warnings for dysphoria and implied transphobia.

 

**Part 6: Twas the Week Before Christmas…**

(and all through the town, everyone was crying because of internalized homophobia)

**_6 Days Before Christmas_ **

**Regina**

Her cellphone rings, and at first Regina thinks that it must be her alarm clock. The noises are similar enough. Then, as she adjusts to being awake, she realizes that it’s three in the morning and someone is calling her.

Immediately she tenses and approaches panic, until she remembers that Henry is in his room sleeping. He’s fine, she tells herself. He’s fine. It’s at that point she realizes that she still needs to answer the damn phone and stop that infernal noise, and so she does.

“This had better be good!” She warns in her most authoritative voice, not knowing or caring who is on the other end of the line, only that they had the audacity to call her at three in the fucking morning.

“I’m sorry.”

The voice on the other end is unsteady and raw, and Regina immediately sits up and cradles the phone to her ear. 

“Jefferson? What’s wrong?"

Other than the tears shed during their reconciliation, Regina hasn’t seen him even come close to losing control since reuniting with his daughter. He’s been taking his meds, going to therapy, and doing whatever he can to build a happier life with Grace. What could have happened to make him call so late?

“Is it your daughter? Is Grace okay?”

“I’m s-sorry.” Jefferson says again. It’s hard to hear how hard he’s crying over the phone. “I…I don’t mean to bother you, God knows I’ve ruined your life enough b-but I don’t know…I c-can’t go home like t-t-this. I didn’t know who else t—”

“You need me to come pick you up?” she asks firmly but gently. “Where are you?”

“The Rabbit Hole,” he says quietly. “I-I’m outside, I…”

“Don’t move. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” she promises, feeling a sense of ironic relief. He’s been drinking. That means he’s probably fine, just wasted and upset about things that are likely more trivial than not.

“I-I’m sorry about this, Regina.”

“I know. Just don’t move.”

Pulling on yoga pants and a heavy sweater, she bundles herself up, makes sure that Henry’s in bed sleeping, and slips out the door. When she arrives in front of The Rabbit Hole, there’s no mistaking the shivering silhouette on the sidewalk. She pulls up, and unlocks the car.

Her old friend lets himself into the car, and she winces at the sudden rush of cold air. Putting on the parking break, she turns to the man next to her to see what’s wrong.

Jefferson’s face is red from the cold, and he’s still crying, the tears on his eyelashes rapidly melting in the heat of the car. His eyeliner has run down his face due to a combination of tears and melting snow. He’s shaking terribly, and it could be from the cold, the sobs wracking his chest, or both.

“Look at me. _Look at me_ ,” Regina whispers, cupping his cold face in both hands until he finally meets her gaze. “Breathe.” She draws in a deep breath and lets it out, not stopping until he starts to copy her.

He brings up his hands to her wrists and holds on tight. They stay like that for a good five minutes, and eventually the violent trembling turns into shivering, sobs turn into sniffling, and she feels like things are going to be okay.

“What happened?” She asks, rubbing her thumbs over his wet cheeks.

“I fucked up, Regina,” he croaks, voice raw. “I fucked up so badly.”

“Tell me,” she says quietly, taking his hands and guiding them down. It’s a little uncomfortable trying to be so close to him in the car, but she doesn’t want to take the time to drive home before hearing what he has to say, and there’s no way in hell she’s going outside for longer than she has to when it’s freezing outside.

“I…I decided to go out—because I never do, anymore—and have fun. I…I met this girl. It was great. Things were great.”

“Mmhm.” Regina squeezes his hands, encouraging him to continue. She’s not sure what could have happened to make him this upset. It’s good that he’s going out again. He deserves love. It takes her a few moments to realize what could have gone wrong, and then her breath catches in her throat. “Oh _no_ , Jefferson. Someone didn’t—“

“I wasn’t going to...” he says more loudly than he needs to, teeth chattering more because of his panic than the cold at this point. “I just wanted to kiss her, but then we started…and she—she found _out,_ she…”

“It’s okay. You’re okay.” All that Regina can do is murmur words of comfort as he continues to talk.

“She called me…she called me terrible things, Regina. She…” He starts sobbing again, but at least he’s not shaking like he was before. That had been almost scary. “I hate myself.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” She frowns. Jefferson loves himself. His confidence and borderline-narcissism are two of the biggest reasons she’d fallen for him, but everyone had moments like this. “You’re wonderful.”

“No I’m not. I’m…I’m…” Jefferson shakes his head. “I-I’m not a real man. I’ll never be a real man. I…” He’s starting to have a hard time breathing again. “I hate myself. I hate this body. I _hate_ it!”

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” Regina promises, and she’s reminded of a time when they were in love. This had happened every now and then, and it had sometimes taken days him to return to his usual jovial self. “Your body is beautiful, and I more than anyone else in this town know how much of a man you are.”

He shakes his head, and she pulls him close as best she can in the cramped car. Jefferson presses his face to her shoulder and she pats his back. 

“You’re a good man. A good father.” She sighs. “I’m going to take you home with me. I can drive you back in the morning before Grace wakes up.” He hiccups in agreement against her coat.

 

**Jefferson**

 

He sits hunched over the edge of Regina’s bed with his face in his hands, feeling helpless.

“Everyone’s going to know, Regina.” He hiccups. “Everyone. The woman I was with is going to tell them.”

“Tell them what?” she asks, sitting next to him. For a half an hour she’s been listening to him cry and offering him water. He’s glad that they’ve reconciled. If they hadn’t, he wouldn’t have had anyone to call, and he’s not sure how the night would have ended.

There’s no way that he can go home like this. He refuses to let Grace see him at his worst. That wouldn’t be good parenting. She needs to think that he’s strong, and capable of anything. He needs to be her hero.

“That I’m not a real man.”

“I’ve told you, dear. You _are_ a real man,” she insists, rubbing his back.

“No I’m not.” The hatter shakes his head and draws in a deep, shuddering breath. “I’m not! You know that more than anyone! You know that I don’t have a…that I don’t have a…”

“ _You_ know that never mattered to me! It didn’t matter to Alice, either.” Her voice softens. “In any case, the girl you were with was likely just as intoxicated as you were when you called me. The odds are that she won’t remember in the morning. She’ll just think she accidently hooked up with a handsome lesbian instead of a m—“

“But I’m not a handsome lesbian!” He says far more loudly than he’d intended. “I’m a _man—“_

 _“See_?”Regina briefly presses her lips to his hair. “Straight from the horse’s mouth. You’re a man.”

“I told you I don’t—“

“Jefferson, I know you better than most. You are egotistical, arrogant, and _loud_. If you’d been born with a penis, raised by the standards of men, you would have turned into the biggest misogynist on the planet and I would have had you killed years ago. I promise you that.”

Her faith in his identity makes him feel better, and he’s glad that she’s here. There’s no one else in the world (in any world) who knows exactly what to say to make him feel better like she does. Despite that, he can’t make himself feel good about his body. Not right now.

In his prime, when he’d been Regina and Alice’s lover, things had been better. He’d had two beautiful women referring to the thing between his legs as his cock, and his chest had been a tribute to the male physique. He’d been strong, young, handsome, and reckless. Now, things are different.

“My body isn’t right,” he says hopelessly.

“Your body is perfect.” Regina objects. “I would know. I’ve certainly seen enough of it.”

“It’s not the same now.” He whimpers, tugging at the buttons of his shirt. “It’s not right. You don’t _know_ …”

“You don’t have to do that,” Regina murmurs, stilling his hands.

“I want you to see.” He chokes out, and a few moments later he’s shrugging out of his button down and dragging one of her hands to his belly. “ _Look._ ”

Where there used to be chiseled abdominal muscles, his stomach has softened and the stretch marks from his pregnancy still haven’t gone away. Carrying Grace had changed his body. His hips aren’t as narrow and before, his chest is much less defined, and his ass has filled out. He can still pass as a man in all ways but one, but it isn’t quite the same, and he _knows_ it.

This isn’t the body that Rumpelstiltskin gave him. Not exactly, and that _hurts_.

“Oh, Jefferson. This doesn’t make you a woman. Not even a little bit.” She pulls him closer. “This just means that you brought life into the world, and there’s no shame in that. It’s _wonderful_ that you made such a perfect little girl, don’t you think?”

He thinks about his daughter, and nods. Regina is right. Being born into this body was worth it, because he has Grace. That’s the thought that keeps him going. It always has been.

“Okay.”

“Okay.” Regina pulls back the covers and guides him down into bed.

“I’m sorry for this.” Jefferson says weakly as she turns off the lights and curls around him. “It doesn’t…this doesn’t happen often, anymore. I shouldn’t have let things with that girl at the bar go so far.”

“It’s alright.” She murmurs, giving his hip a squeeze. “We’re all prone to moments of weakness. I’m sure that you’ll return the favor someday.”

The next morning, Regina drives him home and insists that he and Grace come over for Christmas dinner. He tells her that it’s going to be hell with Charmings crawling over her house. She tells him that’s why she wants him there. That makes him laugh and, satisfied that he’ll be okay, she leaves.

 

**_5 Days Before Christmas_ **

****

**Mulan**

Around two in the afternoon, there’s a knock on her door. Wondering who it could be, Mulan puts down the book that she’s reading (being friends with the librarian has its benefits, she has plenty of novels in English _and_ Chinese now) and goes to the door.

Belle stands outside of her apartment, dark lines of mascara on her face from what looks like a lot of crying. Despite that, her eyes are bright and her cheeks are dry and free of tears. Her face is drained of color, but she looks determined and resolute.

“I left him,” she announces, gripping the handle of the suitcase that Mulan is only just noticing so hard that her fingers turn white. “He said that he wasn’t going to hurt anyone else, but he lied.”

“Did he hurt you?” Mulan asks immediately, searching Belle’s skin for bruises.

“No, not me. He hit Archie.”

“The cricket? But he’s so kind.”

“I know.”

Mulan steps aside, and lets Belle in.

“I’m sorry for coming here. I could have gone to Ruby’s, but they’re so busy with the holiday season, and I just…” Belle takes a deep breath. “I was trying to so hard to be brave, and all I could think of was you. How strong you are. So I came here.”

“I’m physically strong.” Mulan closes the door. Her apartment only has one bedroom, and she immediately decides that she’ll be sleeping on the couch. “What you’ve done takes a different kind of strength. I’m very proud of you.”

They share a quick embrace, and settle down on the couch.

“Is it alright if I stay here for a few days?” Belle asks tentatively. “I have a few other places I could go, and if nothing else I’ll stay in the library, but I thought…”

“Of course you can,” Mulan assures her. “I’d be happy to have the company” She pauses. “I’m still not sure if I understand Christmas,” It hadn’t been a tradition in the Enchanted Forest, “but I’ve heard that it’s a time of kindness and good will. I’d hate to disappoint the season."

Belle giggles, and Mulan smiles.

 

**_4 Days Before Christmas_ **

**David**

“Did you hear that Regina’s got a new man in her life?” Snow asks with a hint of slyness, glancing over at her husband from where she’s putting the finishing touches on presents that will be unwrapped in half the time that she’s spent on their presentation.

“No.” He looks up from the TV Guide he’s holding and frowns at Snow, their infant son nestled in the crook of his other arm. “Where did you hear that?”

“Word gets around.” Snow is obviously very, very proud of herself. “Especially in a town this small. You should know that better than anyone.”

“Right.” A little skeptical, after all Regina has only just broken up with Robin, Charming puts down the magazine and settles back into the couch so that he can focus all of his attention on Snow. “So who is it?”

“Hm. Guess,” Snow says coyly, tying a large garish bow on Emma’s present. They’d hidden Emma and Henry’s presents at the sheriff’s station to stop them from being found weeks ago. It has worked, and David had picked them up that morning.

“Okay.” Charming agrees, pursing his lips and trying to think of the eligible bachelors in Storybrooke. “It’s not Killian, is it?”

“Oh, no!” Snow shakes her head and laughs. “They would have beautiful children though, wouldn’t they?”

“I guess.” It’s not something David wants to think _too_ hard about. In the next moment he remembers that Emma is in love with Regina, and is suddenly very interested in what Snow has to say. He wants his little girl to be happy, after all.

Regina running off with a man, very much not Emma, isn’t going to do that.

“It’s Jefferson. You know, when I was a girl they were good friends, I think. He ran errands for my father and always had such nice things to say to her! She’d even smile at him, which was rare—“

“So they were having an affair?” David asks, thinking about what a wild young Jefferson would have thought of Regina.

Snow White drops the present, and Charming almost winces until he remembers that it contains books. He’s never seen Emma read, so he’s honestly not sure why Snow chose that gift for their daughter.

“Oh my god.” She whispers, eyes widening as she turns to her husband. “That makes _sense_! I never thought that she’d be disloyal to my father, that was—“

“Snow, Regina was a _child_ when your father married her. Of course she’d fall in love with someone else.”

Snow pretends not to hear him.

“You know, there’s something romantic about it! Young lovers, brought back together…and they’re both single parents, too! It’s a perfect match.”

David sighs, because he loves his wife but her inability to speak ill of her father can be extremely frustrating. He decides not to push the envelope for now.

“How do you know that they’re together, Snow?”

“Ruby heard from Killian that they’re together.”                

“How would Killian know that?”

“Pirates hear things, I imagine.” Snow shrugs. “And he—Jefferson, not Killian—has apparently been at Regina’s house almost every night for dinner. She’s even invited him to Christmas!”

When Regina had offered to host, the Charmings hadn’t put up much of a protest. Snow’s apartment was too small for a big event, and Granny was holding a separate event for everyone in Storybrooke who didn’t have a family dinner to attend.

He wasn’t sure exactly who all was coming, but he’d certainly never considered that the hatter would be attending until this moment.

“Who all is coming?” David asks, willing to be a skeptic.

“Hm? Oh, I’m not _entirely_ sure.” Snow taps her chin thoughtfully before cutting a length of wrapping paper and setting a box in the middle of it. “Us, Emma, Henry, Regina, Jefferson, Killian…”

“Killian? Why’s he still going?” David asks. “Not that I have anything against the guy, but he’s not family.”

He likes hanging out with Hook, but he’s not dating Emma anymore (they were never a great fit anyway, he thinks in hindsight) and he’s not sure that a Christmas dinner is really the pirate’s scene.

“He has nowhere else to go!” Snow gushes. “Besides, I thought maybe—“

Charming’s face hardens, and his wife goes silent. Over the past few days she’s brought up reuniting Emma and Killian, and every time Charming has shut her down. Emma doesn’t love him. Why should they be together?

“I…besides, we first started talking about this dinner a month ago. They were still together then. Were we supposed to _uninvite_ him?”

“I guess not…” David sighs, because in a way Snow is right. Killian really doesn’t have any family in Storybrooke, something that is very odd considering that everyone else seems to be related in one way or another. Regina is technically Emma’s grandmother.

That thought makes his face scrunch up, and he pushes it out of his head as quickly as possible. More than once he’s made the mistake of thinking too hard about their family tree. There’s only one way that can end: with a killer headache and a realization that if Regina and Emma _do_ get together, Henry will technically be his own grandfather.

Yeah. That’s too much to process, so instead of starting a potential argument with his wife he just concedes to let Killian come to dinner, and pulls her into a kiss so that he can convince her to make more cookies.

 

**_Three Days Before Christmas_ **

**Emma**

The last thing that Emma wants is for Christmas to arrive. She’s been dreading the upcoming family dinner for days now, but unfortunately hasn’t thought of a way to get out of it.

She knows how important it is to her family that she attends, and even though she could probably fake sick if she _really_ tries, she’s run away so much in her life that she knows better. Besides, Henry’s told her at least six times how excited he is to have both of his moms together and not fighting for Christmas.

Biting her lip, Emma swallows hard and taps her pen anxiously against her desk from her seat in the sheriff’s station. She and Regina aren’t fighting, but that’s probably just because they still haven’t really spoken since Emma confronted the mayor about her sexuality.

Guilt about that encounter still gnaws at Emma when she thinks about it too hard, so she’s been doing her best to push Regina, and her stupid beautiful face, from her mind. It hasn’t been very effective, but she’s holding out hope for success in the future.

Things might not have been so bad if everyone wasn’t gossiping about Regina’s new beau. Now she’s heard from Ruby, Aurora, _and_ her mom that Jefferson and Regina are dating, and it’s all that she can think about. If nothing else, they’re a fucking _beautiful_ couple, Emma supposes. They’re two of the most fashionable people in Storybrooke.

And Jefferson knows Regina in ways that Emma can’t. He knows the woman that she was before becoming the Evil Queen. He’s been intimate with parts of her that likely no one will ever see again.

Jealousy is a fearsome beast, and it burns hard and deep in Emma’s chest.

She hadn’t picked out Regina’s gift personally. Instead she’d just taken the kid shopping, let him pick something out, and forked over her credit card. Henry had wrapped it too, and honestly at this point she can’t even really remember what’s inside the painstakingly wrapped box sitting underneath her bed with the rest of the gifts.

Knowing that she can’t be with the woman she loves, the holiday seems kind of pointless now…but she’ll push through for Henry and everyone else. Killian is still coming, apparently, and she actually winces as she considers how awkward that’s going to be.

Aurora and a few other people are also coming, so Emma’s hoping that she’ll be able to hide from her problems amongst friends instead of family. Although to be honest, she’s not sure who she’s related to anymore. They don’t have a family tree.

It’s a fucking tumbleweed.

Sighing, she rubs her temples and grits her teeth. It doesn’t matter how much time she spends over-thinking Christmas. She’s still going to have to go.

 

**_Two Days Until Christmas_ **

**Henry**

There are two days until Christmas, and he’s getting worried about the lack of communication between his parents. He’d thought that regardless of their current feud, Emma would be at the house helping to get ready for Christmas.

Well, to be completely fair, it’s like the house needs to be cleaned or anything. A beautiful evergreen is set up in the living room, reaching towards the ceiling and covered almost completely in expensive, beautiful ornaments. The exception to the tree’s décor is the series of hand-made ornaments that Henry has presented her with over the years from projects at school.

They hang proudly at eye level and all say things like “I love you, Mom!” and are covered in glittery snowflakes and snowmen. He knows for a fact that she keeps them in their own tissue-paper filled box and puts them on the tree last.

She’s kept everything that he’s ever made. There’s a whole filing cabinet filled with every piece of homework he’s ever turned in, and the art projects that he’s done in school are littered throughout the house. It’s something that he hadn’t noticed until Emma picked up on it, and now he realizes that he’d truly been blind to think that Regina didn’t love him.

His mother has everything under control, but it’s obvious that the idea of the Charmings coming over for Christmas dinner is very stressful for her. Henry had wanted to help, and now he’s wrapping the last of the Christmas presents.

He notices that instead of buying anything for Snow and David, Regina has just purchased clothes and books for Neal. Despite a tense relationship with the Charmings, Regina dotes terribly on their son. He hadn’t realize dhow much his mother loved babies.

Biting his lip and cutting wrapping paper, he wonders if his mother ever considered having more children. He wonders why she waited until coming to Storybrooke to become a mother.

Those questions prove to be too much for him, and so he returns his attention to wrapping Regina’s gifts as neatly as possible. He knows that if his work is sloppy, he’ll have to redo it.

“Dear, do you want some hot chocolate?” Regina calls from the kitchen where she’s making extensive lists of Christmas plans and making sure that her kitchen is neat and organized. There will be other people cooking in it, and Henry knows that his mom isn’t exactly happy about it.

“With cinnamon!” he shouts back, practically able to hear Regina rolling her eyes in response.  Lately, she hasn’t been so uncomfortable with the parts of Henry that are, obviously and irrevocably, traits that he’s inherited from Emma’s side of the family.

It gives him hope that, some day, being one family will be a little easier for all of them. In the meantime, it’s almost time for Operation Scorpion.

Jefferson has agreed that his moms should be together, and is willing to help—within reason. Henry isn’t sure exactly what’s up with the “within reason” part of it. It’s not like they’re doing anything dangerous, after all.

They’re just showing two people that they belong together.

Time and time again, True Love has triumphed in Storybrooke. He’s not sure that it exists in the same way outside of the lives of those born in Fairytaleland, but it’s real here and that’s what matters.

 

**_Christmas Eve_ **

 

**Killian**

 

It’s been a really, really, _really_ strange week.

First, he got absolutely, utterly, completely, intoxicated and tried to kiss Jefferson. Nothing had come of it, of course. He’d made a fool of himself, and now Jefferson probably won’t ever want to talk to him again.

He can still remember what the other man’s hands felt like on his face.

_“You’re not broken.”_

Killian still disagrees with that, but he has to admit that he’s feeling slightly less disgusted with his desires now that he knows touching another man won’t send him immediately to hell. Being with Robin had been stressful because it was new, but he’d had something (what, he wasn’t sure) to prove and now that it’s over he feels…well, he doesn’t know what he feels.

Not at peace, but not broken, either. He won’t ever touch Robin again, he knows that much. The other man had been very good with his hands, but he wasn’t really Killian’s type. It kills him that he has a type. He’d rather not feel attracted to anyone at all than know that brunettes with eyeliner, undercuts, and square jawlines are what it takes to get his motor running.

That doesn’t matter so much now that Jefferson and Regina are together. It was a turn of events that he’d never expected, but in hindsight, he really should have. The two are incredibly similar, and they have a history together. It doesn’t seem like anyone ever _really_ breaks up in Fairytaleland. Eventually, people find their way back to one another.

Killian’s never had anyone to go back to. That thought is so sentimental, heartfelt, and _true_ that it makes him want to throw up.

Knowing that he’s going to be attending Regina’s Christmas dinner the following evening also makes him feel sick. He doesn’t really want to go, but the food is going to be excellent and he’s planning on raiding Regina’s pantry before leaving.

Besides, he feels like he should apologize to Jefferson again. The other man seemed to have forgiven him easily after their almost-kiss, and if nothing else Killian supposes that letting their friendship slowly rip him to pieces until there’s nothing left of him isn’t the worst way to spend the rest of his life.

Hopefully, ideally, if he spends more time with Jefferson his feelings for the other man will fade. In Storybrooke, everyone under Regina’s (or was it the crocodile’s?) curse has changed. If Killian is very lucky, Jefferson isn’t the man that he remembers from the Enchanted Forest, and his feelings will die quickly and painlessly.

(Somehow, he knows that isn’t the case.)

At night he thinks about Jefferson’s strong chin and gentle words, gasping the other man’s name into his pillow as his hand works furiously under the sheets. He thinks about the other man’s cock, about what it might look and feel like.

However, now that he’s been with another man (sort of? they hadn’t done much) Killian is realizing that his feelings for Jefferson weren’t the source of his discontent. He’d been turning all of his discomfort with his sexuality towards the other man, putting the hatter in the center of his problems when really what he needed to do was figure out how he really felt about his sexuality.

He’s hoping that seeing Jefferson and Regina together at dinner will be enough to kill his feelings for the other man for good.

In any case, there will be plenty of free wine and food, so he’ll be going. Snow White has called him more than once to make sure that he’s still attending, and he didn’t really understand why at first. Then, he realizes that she’s still hoping that his relationship with Emma is going to be rekindled.

That proverbial ship has sailed, however. Killian takes an ironic sense of joy from knowing that Emma is in love with Regina. Even if he’ll never be Swan’s lover again, at least they’ll be able to frown at the happy couple from across the room together. Solidarity.

If Henry stands with them, Killian thinks to himself, they’ll look like a family. The boy has mousy hair and bright eyes like Jefferson, and a smirk like the devil that could only have come from being raised by Regina.

It’s not as if it can be denied that the boy is Emma’s son (they’re far too similar) but in passing, for a single glance, it just might look like Regina and Jefferson managed to find a happy ending. That, if nothing else, is going to be what ends him tomorrow night. 

Killian’s plan is to stay as intoxicated as possible for as long as possible. He’s going to start off slow, and gradually continue to drink until Regina allows him to (not at all gracefully) pass out on her couch after everyone else has gone home.


	7. Christmas Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's finally Christmas, and the party is about to begin!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, everyone! I'm so sorry it took me so long to update. I'm not really into OUAT anymore, so writing fic doesn't come quite as easily--but I WILL finish this!! Two more chapters and then I think I'll be done, though I might write an epilogue.

**Christmas Part 1**

 

**Emma**

 

Her eyes open, and she stares at the ceiling for a good five minutes. Christmas is here, and for a lot of people, this is the perfect day. It’s twenty-eight degrees, windless, and a blanket of fresh snow covers the ground. There have been no traffic accidents, and the streets are plowed and ready for the day’s traffic.

By all accounts, it’s the perfect winter day. No one could ask for more.

Despite that, Emma doesn’t really feel perfect. Not at all. She doesn’t want to get out of bed at all, but knows she has to. She’s supposed to be at Regina’s at two to finish with last-minute preparations for the party. It’s the first time in awhile that Regina has invited her over like this, and even if it means dealing with Regina and Jefferson making eyes at each other (she hasn’t seen them together as a couple yet, but imagines that it’s both picturesque and disgusting) she’s just happy to be in the mayor’s good graces again.

Regina.

Even as something as simple as a thought, the other woman’s name rests heavy on her tongue. She’s not sure that she could say it out loud right now even if she tried. Before that train of thought can continue, there’s a pounding on her bedroom door that makes her nearly jump out of her skin, and she remembers that Henry is here.

He’d told her that Regina needed the morning to herself (and her beau, Emma things with a grimace) to put the finishing touches on the house before invited guests invaded it. Emma hadn’t minded having Henry over for the night. It was nice to have some time alone with the kid.

“Ma! It’s time to get up!”

“Jesus, kid, I’m awake!” She calls back, rolling her eyes as she sits up and runs her fingers through long, tangled hair. Sometimes she thinks it might be easier to cut all of it off, but the shock might actually kill Mary Margaret. Emma wants her mom to stay alive despite her misgivings about sexuality, so the curls are going to stay.

After pulling on a sweatshirt over the t-shirt she’d worn to bed, she twists her hair up into a messy bun and leaves her bedroom feeling exhausted despite having just woken up.

“I made you breakfast.” Henry teases, motioning to the milk, box of cereal and empty bowl on the kitchen table.

“How thoughtful.” Emma sits down and pulls both items towards her, happy that Henry isn’t in the mood for a big breakfast. The more that she thinks about the upcoming night, the more nauseated she becomes. Between seeing Regina with Jefferson and trying to impress her, Emma’s feeling a lot of stuff.

Yeah. A lot of stuff.

“So how’s your mom doing?” She asks, trying to act casual.

“She’s pretty stressed out.” Henry admits as he munches on his cereal, casting occasional glances at Emma that she suspects are supposed to be secretive. Emma knows that her son is up to something, but attributes it to the season. He’s been throwing sideways glances at everyone and having a lot of hushed conversations on the phone, probably because he’s finally old enough to go out and buy gifts without his mothers present.

She’s certain that the reasons behind his behavior are the gifts that he’s bought for his family and friends. He’s the type of kid to be really proud of giving—and hell, she’s really proud of _him_.

“You should wear that to the party.” Henry observes, taking in Emma’s pajamas and messy hair.

“Do you _want_ Regina to kill me?” She huffs, shoveling more cereal into her mouth. The tips of her ears go red as she thinks about how long it took her to pick out what to wear to the Christmas party. Pleasing Regina had been the only thing on her mind, and she hopes that the dangerously stylish mayor will approve.

 

**Henry**

 

It’s about two in the afternoon when they pull into Regina’s drive. His mom hadn’t wanted them to arrive too early. The extra few hours of peace and quiet had been important to her. Glancing down the street, he sees that Jefferson’s car is already parked.

Good. He’s here. That means that Operation Scorpion can commence without a hitch.

“Come on!” His grip on Emma’s hand is firm as he tugs her up the drive and into the house. He is holding a bag of presents in his other hand, and is determined to make this the best, and probably gayest, Christmas in all of Storybrooke history.

“Mom! We’re here!” he shouts as he hangs up their coats, wondering how the morning preparations went. According to Jefferson (he’s been sending regular updates all morning via text) things are good. Henry hopes that’s true.

“You’re on time?” Regina steps into view and slowly looks the two up and down. “On time and well-dressed. Is this my present?”

The way that Emma’s mouth quirks up into a smile and color rushes to her cheeks isn’t lost on Henry. Personally, he thinks that his ma looks great. She’s wearing a clean and pressed white button-down under a blue cashmere sweater that brings out her eyes, and straight-leg black jeans with a brand new pair of black boots that come up just above her ankles. He thinks that she looks very nice, and knows for a fact that she spent two hours on the phone with Ruby last night picking out the outfit.

“You look nice, too.” Emma says, hands shoved into the pockets of her jeans.

The mayor is wearing a form-fitting dark green cocktail dress that drops just below her knees. It’s not a color that he sees her wear often, except around Christmas. Red lipstick and earrings with a green dress are as festive as she’s willing to go this year, but it’s still more than he expected. For now she’s also wearing an apron, and flour is dusted across the front of it.

“I’m going to go find Jefferson and Grace!” Henry announces, bolting out of the room to give the two women some more time together. His mom’s new-old best friend is in the kitchen wearing a reindeer-print apron and stirring what Henry hopes is sugar cookie dough.

“You’re on time.” Jefferson sounds as surprised as Regina had moments before.

“Where’s Grace?” Henry asks, trying to play cool. Today isn’t about that. It’s about his moms.

“She’s coming a little later.” Jefferson explains. “She’s helping with Neal this morning to give his parents more time with Christmas preparations.” His smile is fond as he talks about his daughter.

“Oh. Okay.” Henry looks longingly at the cookie dough for a moment, and then remembers about their secret mission. “Do you have the stuff?”

“I do.” Jefferson nods very seriously, and pulls out a sealed envelope and a small box from his back pocket, handing the latter to Henry. “Are you prepared to do what you have to do?”

“Yes.” Henry nods. “Where is it?”

The hatter walks over to the fridge and pulls out a small glass bowl covered with plastic rap.

“I’ve made sure that there’s no more cinnamon or powdered sugar in the house, and there’s no way that Regina is going to put out the dessert without icing.”

A grin slowly spreads across Henry’s face. He’s been asking for his mom’s applecake for weeks now, just to make sure that she’ll make it for Christmas dinner. Eyes locked with Jefferson, he takes the bowl. There’s a moment of silence, and then he drops it.

There’s a loud crash as it shatters. It hadn’t quite set, and the cinnamon-sugar concoction starts to ooze across the floor. Jefferson swears loudly, and the click-clacking of two pairs of heels gets louder and louder as his moms approach.

“What happened!” Regina exclaims, staring in horror at the floor.

“I’m sorry, Mom!” Henry does his best to look distraught. “I was trying to make more room in the fridge and I dropped it!”

“It’s—it’s fine!” Regina takes a deep breath. “I can just make more—no harm done, Henry.”

“Actually…” Jefferson bites his lip. “You can’t. There’s no more cinnamon. Or powdered sugar.”

“It’s Christmas! What are we supposed to do? The store isn’t open.”

“I have an idea.” Jefferson says as he kneels down to start picking up the glass pieces. “I think that Henry and I can finish preparing. Besides the cookies, everything’s either finished or in the oven. All that’s left to do is clean up. Why don’t you and Emma drive to my place and raid my pantry? Regina, you’ve been working incredibly hard on this dinner. You deserve a break.”

“Alright, alright. I suppose I could use a breath of fresh air before the Charming onslaught.” Regina reluctantly agrees. Henry and Jefferson share a glance when neither woman protests at the idea of Emma accompanying Regina on the errand.

“I’ve even got instructions on me for how to get past my security system.” Jefferson pulls out the envelope he’d shown Henry minutes before. “I was going to give them to you later, Regina—just in case you need to get in when I’m not home.”

Jefferson’s not sure, but he could have sworn that Emma tensed up at his last few words.

“We should be back within a half an hour.” Regina takes the envelope from Jefferson and hands him the flour-covered apron she’d been wearing. “You’re sure that you’re fine here?”

“Absolutely.” Jefferson promises. “Henry why don’t you show your mothers out?”

“Right.” Henry walks with the two women to the door, stopping them before they leave. “Hey, Mom—I’m really sorry about dropping the bowl.”

“Don’t worry about it, dear. These things rarely go without at least one hiccup.” Regina brushes it off.

“I still feel bad. Look—these are for you and Ma. I want you to have them early.” He presses the black box that Jefferson gave him into Regina’s hand.

“Are you sure?” Regina asks. Emma looks curiously what her son has given them. “I thought we were going to wait until after dinner for presents.”

“I’m sure. I was gonna give you guys these now, anyway. They’re for the party. ” Henry explains, and Regina opens the box. Inside are two silver snowflake broaches. They’re a little gaudy, but his moms both look pleased.

“Thank you, Henry. They’re lovely.” Regina bravely takes a one and pins it to the front of her dress. Emma does the same.

“Yeah, thanks kid.” The sheriff ruffles her son’s hair. “We’ll see you soon!”

Their coats both unbuttoned in their haste, they hurry outside. Henry watches, and sees how as they step outside, it starts to snow. Neither of them seem to notice or mind as they get into Regina’s car and pull out into the street.

 

**Jefferson**

 

Emma and Regina left fifteen minutes ago, and Henry hasn’t stopped talking since.

“So where did you get the pins? You didn’t tell me in your texts and you’re not magic like my mom, right? So you couldn’t make them yourself—you didn’t go to Mr. Gold did you?” Henry asks one question after the other in rapid-fire succession as they scrub down the countertops.

“No, I didn’t go to him. I know better than that. Now that there’s magic in town and I’m on good terms with your mother, I had the resources to get my hat back. Sort of.” He explains. “There were enough scraps left from the old one that I was able to make a half-functioning new hat.”

“Okay.” Henry nods. “So what exactly did you do?”

“Well, you told me to find a way to get Emma and Regina alone, but I was having a hard time with it. They’re both stubborn, as you know. So, I made a portal just big enough to get in touch with our old friend Elsa.” Jefferson explains. “When I told her what we were doing, she was thrilled. Apparently she could smell their romance a mile away.”

“I knew she knew.” Henry laughs. “The snowflakes totally make sense now! I was kind of confused when you told me about them, but they’re a great idea. I knew you were the right man for Operation Scorpion.”

Jefferson puffs with pride a little. Going along with Henry’s plan makes him feel young again, and Regina truly does deserve to have a happy ending. Win-win.

“The pins were completely Elsa’s idea—she made them just for your moms.” Jefferson wrings out the dishcloth he’s been using and hangs it up to dry on the oven door. “As soon as they were exposed to the cold, they started to attract snow. The only thing that can stop it?” He smirks. “True love’s kiss. They’ll be snowed in before they figure it out.”

Henry laughs, and then stops.

“But what if…they don’t?”

“There’s only enough magic in the pins to last for a few hours.” Jefferson explains. “Elsa wrote down some helpful hints—that’s what’s in the envelope—so everything should run smoothly enough. Hopefully.” Running his fingers through his hair, he sighs happily. “Call me a hopeless romantic, but I think they’ll be just fine.”

 

**Belle**

 

Between the two of them, Belle and Mulan have been doing exceptionally well lately. Ever sine she moved in (just for a few weeks, of course) with Mulan, things have been getting better. Ignoring Rumpel’s calls is becoming easier and easier now that she has her new roommate’s constant encouragement.

The other woman never says anything out of line, but refuses to lie. She encourages Belle, and constantly tells her that she is smart enough to make her own decisions. The only thing she wants to do is support the librarian in her choices, and Belle is overwhelmed with newfound affection for her old friend.

The warrior’s honesty is refreshing, and in the few weeks that she’s been separated from her (soon to be ex) husband, Belle has found that the warrior is exactly the kind of person she needs to be around right now. But even though they liked spending time together, they’d been excited when Emma invited them to the Christmas party (“Just don’t bring Gold, ok?”) because it gave them an excuse to see everyone.

Mulan had admitted to Belle days earlier that she was nervous about possibly seeing Aurora, but she knew that it wasn’t right to keep avoiding one of her closest friends. Belle is very proud of her for being so brave.

Right now they’re in Belle’s car, parked down the street from Regina’s house. They’d accidently arrived a half an hour early, and neither of them had wanted to interrupt Regina before she was ready for guests.

Now they’re huddled together in the warm car drinking tea from the full thermos that they’d brought to keep them warm on the drive over.

“Are you excited for the party?” Belle asks after a few minutes of comfortable silence. Mulan shrugs a little. “Nervous about seeing Aurora?” A sigh and a nod. “You don’t have to answer, but…do you still love her?”

“Not like that.” Mulan admits. “But I’m afraid if see her…”

“You’ll fall for her all over again?”

“Yes. That’s why I haven’t tried to find her, actually.” She turns to Belle, brow furrowed. “How did you—“

“I can relate, not that our situations are exactly the same.” Belle smiles, and swallows. Lately she’s been noticing the way that Mulan blushes easily, and that there are little amber flecks in her eyes. “You’ll do okay.” She reaches out and puts a hand on her friend’s.

“Thank you.” Mulan replies softly. “I know that you’re right, and I really do think I’m ready to move on. I’ve let her go.”

She’s not sure how long their eyes stay locked, but she can feel her heart beat faster and faster as the moments tick by. In the silence, her thoughts drift to something that she’s been afraid to articulate. Her husband’s last lie was the final straw, and she’s ready to let him go, too. It’s scary, but it feels right.

“Mulan?” She whispers, realizing how close the other woman’s face is to hers.

“Yes, Belle?”

“What is this?”

One more moment of silence.

“Something new.”

When Aurora and Phillip pull up behind them, neither of them notice the way that Aurora smiles when she sees them kissing. They don’t notice the couple at all, too busy with each other. In fact, by the time that they, they realize that they’re no longer early to the party: they’re late.


	8. Christmas Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Operation Scorpion, things finally come together. Merry Christmas, Storybrooke!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I DID IT. I'm so sorry it took me over two years to finish this! I'm just...so not into OUAT. BUT...your comments make me so happy! I looked at them today, and told myself that I had to finish it!!!! But of course, my draft for this chapter (two years old!!!) was lost when my old computer died a few weeks ago. So, I sat down after dinner and made this happen!!! Again, thank you so much. I'm so happy that this fic made people happy. I wrote it during a weird time in my life, when I was coming to terms with parts of my gender and sexuality that took me a long time to confront. Now, over two years after starting this fic...I know so much more about who I am! OUAT and this fic didn't have a ton to do with it, but re-reading it I can see where I was back then. But enough about me, I hope ya'll like the ending! :) It's exactly what it was always supposed to be. Feel free to ask questions about what happens after this chapter.

**Christmas: Part 2**

  
  


**Emma**

 

“Wow, it’s really coming down out there, huh?” Emma stares out the window, where snow is starting to fall.

“The forecast said we were done with snow. So much for the weatherman…” Regina sighs. “This trip shouldn’t take too long. We’ll be back before anything starts sticking.”

“I’m not sure about that.” There’s already over an inch on the road. Regina had slowed down considerably since leaving Regina’s house only five minutes ago.

“Are you arguing with me, Ms. Swan?”  Regina raises an eyebrow and glances quickly over. They both laugh quietly, and continue in silence.  Emma relaxes. This is the friendliest that the mayor has been with her since their confrontation earlier in the month, when Emma had tried to talk to her about her sexuality.

Within ten minutes of leaving, however, Emma realizes that the car has slowed to a near stop, snow obscuring the windows.

With a huff, Regina brakes completely and puts the car in park.

“I can’t see. Maybe if I just...” She said tersely, waving her hand and letting wisps of purple smoke escape into the air. “...it’s not working. My magic isn’t working.”

“I mean...can your magic affect the weather? That seems like it might be above even you.” Emma shrugs.

“I could eat the weather for breakfast if I wanted to!” Regina spits back, smoothing down her hair. “There’s no reason why I shouldn’t be able to clear the road, unless…” She raises her hand again, eyes narrowed, and sends out more magic, watching it disintegrate as soon as it phases out of the window and hits the snow.

“It’s magic.” She finishes.

“What? The snow?” Emma asks, eyes wide. “Is it...is Elsa back for Christmas?”

“I don’t think so. Even if she was, she has enough control over her powers that this wouldn’t happen…” Regina’s voice trailed off, her gaze settling on the envelope Jefferson had given her, which was sitting on the dashboard. “I wonder…” She reaches out, but Emma plucks the paper up before her manicured fingers can reach it.

“These don’t look like directions to Jefferson’s security system.” Emma says dryly.

“Just read it.” Regina groans, slumping back in her seat. “I should have known that we couldn’t get through one holiday without something like this happening…”

Emma takes a deep breath, and starts to read,

 

_ “Dear Emma and Regina, _

_ I hope that you parked before the snow really got bad. You’ve probably figured it out by now, but this isn’t a regular snowstorm. Don’t worry, it  isn’t a curse, and no one’s in trouble. It’s just a little spell that I threw together for you two. The storm will let up as soon as you break it. It’s nothing complicated. In fact, it’s not so different from any of the other spells and curses you’ve come across, from what I understand. _

_ Again, don’t worry. And don’t blame me. I didn’t come up with this. Your son did. _

_ Wishing you both well, _

_ Elsa.” _

 

“Huh. So it is Elsa’s magic…” Emma observes, brow furrowed as she reads it over and over again.

“Why can’t something just go right!” Regina slams her first down on the horn. The sound is loud and ugly, and it startles Emma, especially when it doesn’t stop. Regina keeps hitting it until Emma outright grabs her hands.

“Regina, calm down! It’s...it’s okay.” She can feel herself blushing, and she can feel Regina’s hands trembling in her grasp. Her chest tightens as she realizes that there are tears in the other woman’s eyes. “If Henry had something to do with it, it’s probably something good! You raised a smart kid.”

“I know, I know.” Regina’s breaths are long and deep as she tries to stay calm. “I just...with everything that’s been--been happening, I just wanted one thing to go right. I just want things to be okay, and--”

“What do you mean everything that’s been happening?” Emma asks, gently rubbing Regina’s hand.

“You...you know exactly what I mean. You know your mother’s opinions, everyone’s opinions--and what they think about me. You came into my house, and…” Regina’s voice trails off and she looks down at their hands. “You know about  _ me _ .”

“Yeah, I know.” Emma replies. “...but I don’t care. I mean, I do, but not...not like Snow does. I just want you to be happy, and knowing about that part of you...it made  _ me  _ so, happy. Because...because...I...”

“Because what, Emma?” Regina asks, casting a little look towards Emma.

The car seems even smaller, and incredibly hot despite the raging snowstorm outside. Emma is acutely aware of their heartbeats in the tiny space. Her stomach feels like it’s full of butterflies, and her ears are ringing. The only thing that she can see is the perfect outline of Regina’s lips, slightly parted as the other woman breathes.

She leans in.

 

**Killian**

 

He stands in front of the door with his hands shoved into his pockets for a full five minutes before knocking. Mary Margaret answers the door and pulls him into a hug extremely tight for such a small woman.

“Killian!” She exclaims, “I’m so glad that you made it! Come in, come in! Almost everyone else is here. Regina and Emma had to step out to get some things, but once they get back, we’ll have a full house!”

“Gee, thanks, Snow.” Killian forces a grin and turns from Snow White to her husband, giving David a firm handshake. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to make my way to the bar. I’ll see you later, I’m sure.”

So Regina and Emma are gone. In a way, that’s a relief. He doesn’t feel up to seeing Emma yet, and he doesn’t want to see Regina and Jefferson as a couple. This is perfect, really. He can eat and drink until the ladies get back, then slip out.

Once he has a drink in his hand, he relaxes, and leans back against the wall near the fireplace. He scans the crowd. Briefly, he catches Robin’s eye and blushes. The larger man laughs and turns away, his arm around his wife and their son at his knees. Hopefully they’re working things out, the pirate thinks offhandedly. They seem like a good family.

He spots Belle in a corner, but Gold isn’t in sight. Thinking back, he remembers hearing that the Dark One wasn’t invited. For the best, probably. The woman looks happier than he’s seen her in a long time. She’s curled up with one of Robin’s merry men. Well...not men. The woman. Mulan, right? He didn’t know they were friends.

“They’re a cute couple, don’t you think?” A soft voice whispers in his ear. Killian turns, and finds Jefferson standing close.

“A couple?” Killian asks, looking back to the corner. Belle presses a small kiss under Mulan’s chin, and both women blush.

“Mmhm.” Jefferson murmurs. Killian can smell the hatter’s cologne. All that he can think about is the six inches that separate them. “They look happy, don’t you think?”

“They do.” Killian agrees. His focus moves to a photograph of Regina on the mantle, and the world comes back into focus. “I...congratulations, by the way.”

“Oh what?” Jefferson asks, looking confused.

“Oh Regina. I...I saw you two together, at your place. She’s...she’s something. I hope you two are happy.” Killian does his best to be casual about what he’s saying. “I really am sorry about that night, by the way. I wasn’t myself. I didn’t mean it. When I--you know.” To his surprise, Jefferson starts laughing. “What’s wrong?” Killian asks, frowning heavily. “Did I say something funny?”

“Regina and I aren’t together!” Jefferson huffs out. “We’re just good friends. She fell asleep at my place, that’s all. She’s in love with--” He pauses, “well...anyway, she’s in love with someone else. But I’m happy enough.”

“Oh.” Killian says quietly, forcing himself to look at Jefferson’s face. “Who are you in love with, then?”

“Right now?” Jefferson blinks. “Nobody. But...I’m starting to think that could change.”

 

**Henry**

 

The party is going well. He’s been making sure that everything is where it’s supposed to be, and he hopes his mom would approve. She’s been gone for almost an hour, but he’s not worried. Emma and Regina are both stubborn. He never expected them to come back quickly.

Everyone looks really happy--except maybe Mary Margaret. There are, he notices, a lot of people in the house that might make her uncomfortable. Mulan and Bell are sitting so close that he’s not sure whose arm is whose. Jefferson and Killian are on the porch, faces impossibly close as they share a cigarette. Phillip and Aurora are here with their baby, and they’re wearing matching lipstick.

As he’s re-arranging the presents under the tree, he hears the front door open. His moms walk in holding hands. Henry grins.

Best. Christmas. Ever.

 


End file.
